Insert Witty Title Here
by Stalker of Stories
Summary: A collection of unrelated one-shots and some multi-chapter short stories that don't deserve their own entry. Mori/Harry, most non HPatHC compliant. Summaries on my profile.
1. Change in the Tide

Warnings: Slash, Ron bashing, Dumbledore bashing, spoilers through book 5 of Harry Potter, spoilers through chapter 20 of Ouran High School Host Club manga, totally AU, bit of a dry start

Disclaimers: Harry Potter belongs to Joanne Kathleen Rowling and affiliates, of which I am not one. Ouran belongs to Bisuko Hatori and affiliates, again I am not one. _**Not part of the HPatHC universe**_**.**

Features: Happy!Harry, !Takashi (he's so amazing that there doesn't need to be anything before the exclamation point), Pretty!Hermione, BattybutAwesome!Luna, Teacher!Remus, and the rest of the Host Club being themselves.

Insert Witty Title Here

It had been two years, and Harry didn't regret a minute of it. Well, maybe first couple of months, but he had gotten over that.

At the end of Harry's fifth year, Sirius died. Harry fell into a pit of depression, the weight of some prophecy that had been made not long before his birth pressing down on him. It was like he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. Until he overheard some interesting information that is. On the last night of fifth year, while most of the rest of the school was at the Farewell Feast, Harry could be found stalking the halls, depressed over Sirius' death.

As it just so happened, so could Luna Lovegood. He ended up helping her find her lost things, even when she said she didn't need the help. But she was his friend, and Harry was going to stick by her. It seemed as novel a concept to her as it had to Harry a few years ago, which made him all the better for volunteering in the first place. He used a little known feature of the Marauder's Map – Sirius had told him all the map's secrets – to locate items that weren't where they were meant to be. Most of Luna's things were in the Room of Requirement.

That was when they found this weird tiara-thing that Luna went bat-shit crazy over (said something about a Diadem being infested with snabolmaps). She stuck it in her hand bag and insisted that he let her into the Chamber of Secrets.

Something that Harry had learned was that you do not go against a girl on a mission. Mostly through watching Ron try to stem Hermione at every opportunity. So he acquiesced, but insisted that they find Luna's things first since that had been the entire point of the journey. He then took her to the Chamber, where Luna took the tiara-thingy and, for some reason unknown, stabbed the central gem with the remaining basilisk fang before putting it with the rest of her things and acting as if nothing had happened.

When they came back up, it was only by chance that they heard Dumbledore talking to Ron and Hermione, asking them to keep tabs on Harry, try to keep him on a certain track. Ron said he would do as he had always done and there was no need to remind him of his job; Hermione was aghast and outright refused.

One week later, Luna told Harry what the "Diadem" was, what the snabolmaps were doing in it, and that there were apparently others. She also said they smelled like snake.

Not that Harry understood what she meant. He was ore intent on leaving the country. Leaving a note saying something about the "horcruxes" that Luna had told him about, he took both Luna and Hermione with him when he went to the first place he could think of; Japan. Xenophilius Lovegood and the Grangers came as well, though neither were very accepting of Harry paying to have their daughters enrolled somewhere. But Harry wanted a solid education away from the magical eye, and neither family could afford to place Hermione and Luna in the school chosen.

Harry and Hermione joined the first year high school class several months into their school year, in mid-July (the end of the summer break at Ouran apparently), while Luna joined the last year of middle school students. Hermione took first place in classes from a boy by the name of Haninozuka who looked like he was maybe ten or eleven, yet acted very manly (or tried to for a while) and just so happened to be the Karate Club Captain. He was also a sucker for Harry's home-made cupcakes, which he refused to admit until after he'd eaten three whole batches... in one day.

At the end of that first year, Harry, Hermione, and Luna had gained a sort of tentative friendship with Haninozuka Mitsukuni and his cousin/body guard (of sorts) Morinozuka Takashi. Or, rather, they could talk to one another easily (though Takashi didn't actually talk much), but there was always something between them. They had both joined the Black Magic Club as well, finding the rituals interesting, and the Traditional Japanese Magic to be more than a little intoxicating in its own way. Nekozawa Umehito, the club president, was quite glad to not be the only wizard at Ouran. Hermione had joined the school's Orchestra, and Harry was in the Football Club.

Luna, meanwhile, had made friends with a French boy who seemed far too affectionate to every girl he met. Hermione had to slap him three times before he understood that she was not to be flirted with.

The next year brought something called a "Host Club" to Ouran, as well as news from Britain in the form of Remus Lupin, the new second year literature teacher and the only person who was more affected by Sirius' death than Harry was, for not-so-obvious reasons to most. Apparently, several "horcruxes" had been found by the Order and Dumbledore was currently seeking Harry out to kill Voldemort for him. So Harry spent the next few months until summer vacation plotting ways to deal with Voldemort, though he never seriously considered actually killing the snake-man.

On the last day of school before summer vacation, Harry was out flying in the mountains when Voldemort appeared. As well as Dumbledore. Remus had accidentally ratted out his location – for which Harry whole-heartedly forgave him – Dumbledore dueled Voldemort, and with the Heir of Slytherin distracted, Harry cast the Killing Curse.

He then extracted an Unbreakable Vow that Dumbledore would not reveal Harry's location (or Hermione's, Luna's, the Grangers', Mr. Lovegood's, and Remus' for that matter) or the location of Voldemort's death within six thousand miles. They could worship him all they wanted; they would simply see neither hide nor hair of him in that time.

The next week and most of summer vacation was spent brooding in the attic of the house that Hermione's parents had bought while the Grangers and Lovegoods were at the beach for vacation. Harry had claimed he needed to reassess things now that Voldemort was dead.

His brooding went on pause on the last day of vacation when the Grangers returned and informed him that the Lovegoods were hosting a dinner and that he should come. Harry agreed, albeit reluctantly, and found himself at the house that Xenophilius was renting on the other side of Tokyo. He was surprised to see that they had invited muggles – Luna's French friend Tamaki, Tamaki's friend Kyouya, Harry and Hermione's sort-of friends Mitsukuni and Takashi, their actual-friend Umehito (not a muggle, but whatever), and two red-headed twins from the middle-school section named Hikaru and Kaoru who reminded Harry of younger, more introverted Weasley Twins – and more so that those same muggles had been invited to such a blatantly magical home.

The fact that Tamaki's mother was apparently Luna's aunt twice removed was rather strange, but what about her wasn't? Xenophilius had a "the more the merrier" attitude about his family and felt that friends were as good as family, which had been a bit strange at first, but Harry had grown used to being Xeno's pseudo-son. Though the fact this these people whom Luna liked and Harry sorta-liked being told so easily about magic was very strange.

Then again, Harry was still getting used to the increased drinking age – 20 rather than the 18 of England – so it was hardly a surprise to find him ignorant of the laws regarding secrecy in Japan.

The knowledge that Harry had killed someone didn't go over too well with everyone else though.

By the time September had rolled around, Hermione was involved with a boy the next year up, Luna had joined the Black Magic Club, and Harry had stopped hanging out with the Football Club except for practices and games, at which times he ran himself ragged. He had gone into full-on recluse mode, and his sour mood repelled anyone who might have wanted to speak with him. Remus tried to help, but failed.

In October, Hermione broke it off with her boyfriend, claiming him to be too shallow, and kidnapped Harry from the apartment he was renting. The action surprised him since he was in the middle of doing his Literature homework (Remus would give him a bit of leeway, but Harry didn't want to take advantage of the werewolf) and school had let out only an hour before. When Mr. Granger dropped them back off at school, Harry was extra confused considering he was unaware of anything special happening that day.

It wasn't until they arrived in the Third Music Room in the North Building that he realized where they were going. He stopped her by digging his heels into the marble.

"Hermione, I'm a guy," he stated calmly. She didn't seem to comprehend. "The Host Club caters to girls."

"They cater to whomever wishes to be catered to," Hermione snorted. "And it isn't all Tamaki-kun romancing girls you know. That's just the more annoying aspects. Now come on; I already got Kyouya-kun to give us an appointment." Sadly, Hermione was a girl on a mission. Harry knew when he was beaten, and there was no winning against Hermione.

The sight of Hermione dragging Harry through the doors caused quite a hush to fall over the girls who were spending their afternoon with the Host Club. Harry sighed and tried to make himself look small, though it didn't work very well, as this seemed to draw ever more eyes to him. Probably made it look like he had come of his own free will too.

Not that Harry was ashamed of his sexuality, but he knew where he wasn't wanted. The mix of the Hosts not talking to him – which, admittedly, might have had something to do with him hiding – and the stares and whispers from the young ladies of Ouran in their pale yellow dresses (god-awful things that Hermione and Luna refused to wear, thank Merlin) made that apparent. And even if he were welcome, Harry had no desire to advertise his preferences, nor force his attentions upon the Hosts.

"Hermione-no-kimi, Potter-kun," Kyouya seemed to appear from nowhere, his own flock of fangirls following obediently.

"Drop that suffix, _please_," Hermione grimaced. "It sounds so... just drop it." It was no secret among the Ouran students that Harry, Hermione, and Luna were all "commoners". Harry was simply a very rich commoner who didn't want to attend the school without his friends. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, they all found it very strange that the trio of Brits didn't particularly care to be treated as well as the Ouran student body. "We can wait the ten minutes until our appointment."

"Of course Hermione," some girls giggled at Kyouya's complete drop of suffix, but it wasn't any great surprise. By virtue of Tamaki and Luna being cousin-friends, Kyouya was roped into being her friend and was at least familiar with Hermione if not completely friendly. After the dinner in July, Harry's interactions with Luna's friends and his own had barely stayed at cordial. "You and Potter-kun may go over there to wait. Mori-senpai and Hani-senpai should be ready for you soon. Have a nice day."

Harry felt his eyebrows rise up as Hermione dragged him along behind her to the indicated table. "That's what this is about?" He asked when they were seated and being eavesdropped upon by the smallest number of people. "You want me to make friends with Takashi-kun and Kuni-chan (1) again?"

"Naturally," Hermione smiled knowingly at him. "Why else would I bring you here?" Harry's response was to glare.

"Hermione, they're the ones who didn't like what they were told," _I was just the one who didn't want to tell them_, he amended mentally, but forged on, feigning obliviousness to the eavesdroppers. A boy coming to the Host Club was always a juicy bit of gossip. "They all were like that."

"You didn't exactly give them any opportunity to react," admonished the elder of the two. Harry mentally winced, but externally he didn't react. He really hadn't given them any opportunity, but when they all stared at him with those accusing gazes… well, Harry couldn't _not_ run away. He didn't need to hear their opinions because they had been written clear as day on everyone's faces.

Even Takashi's, and that was saying something.

After a moment Harry scowled and looked out the window. The early autumn leaves fell prettily and were a far better thing to ponder than his dilapidated friendships.

"Shouldn't you be looking to patch up things between Ume-kun and I first?" Umehito had actually already known about Harry defeating Voldemort – it had been all over every wizarding periodical – but their friendship was strained by Harry's solitary nature.

Hermione's own eye roll at Harry's behavior shut him up soundly once more and he continued contemplating the leaves.

Then a bubbly blond boy of sixteen – precisely seven months younger than Harry (2) – bounced over so suddenly that Harry jolted as Mitsukuni landed on the opposite end of the couch Harry had claimed. Hermione was sitting in the chair next to Mitsukuni's end, which left only the space between Mitsukuni and Harry for Takashi to take.

He didn't even hesitate.

"Good afternoon Harry-chan, Maini-chan!" Mitsukuni piped happily. "It's been forever since we've seen you, right Takashi?"

"Aa," was the response, a standard that Harry was accustomed to. What he was not familiar with was the slight smile on Takashi's face as he looked at the wizard. It was strange that he should take Harry being within the same room as him outside of classes so well.

Harry was a murderer after all, even if he hadn't wanted to do it. Prophecy and action, that was what it was, and Harry damned himself for it frequently.

In retrospect, it must be said that he actually regretted a lot of those two years, but the recollection of his reunion was nice regardless. Though he was rather irked that Hermione hadn't told him that she was taking the cupcakes he had made earlier that day, or he might have not looked so surprised when Hermione brought out a box (seemingly from nowhere, but really from a small pocket dimension that she kept in her school bag) containing Harry's cupcakes.

Mitsukuni liked them though, so that was good. Even if he would now have to make yet another batch for the up-coming Halloween party… scratch that, he would have to make quite a few batches now that he knew Mitsukuni wouldn't hold the dinner party against his cooking.

Over the next hour during their appointment – Hermione had booked it specially with Kyouya – Harry found that they didn't hold what he had done against him either. Harry felt like a royal prick, but at least he could spend his free periods doing something other than making sure he didn't run into the boys in his class (it was rather difficult).

The coming months brought Harry closer to his friends, and he became a regular at the Host Club on Wednesdays (his only club-free day each week). Not to force his affections on the Host boys, but to make sure he had time to talk to the members… the ones he actually knew anyway.

Valentines Day crept up on Harry completely unawares, and he hadn't even realized when he came that Wednesday with his usual treat for whichever Host he was visiting (Takashi today; he also had cupcakes for Mitsukuni as usual) that he had made chocolate (3). It made him highly embarrassed when he walked in and saw the decorations to realize just what he had done.

Though, to be fair, the only "celebration" of Valentines Day he had ever observed was being tackled by a dwarf dressed up as cupid in the middle of a crowded castle hallway. It made sense that he should forget about it.

That didn't stop him from wanting to smash his head in.

A month later, Harry found a small white box on his desk with a necklace inside – a simple dark green stone on a leather thong, quite simple for Ouran – and he couldn't help the blush that crawled up his cheeks. If Hermione hadn't told him that morning about White Day (4), he wouldn't have had a clue. And Harry had only given one person a Valentines Day gift, accidental as it may have been.

He hurriedly stuffed the box in his bag and, though he did put the necklace on later – it was his style, honestly – he was still terribly embarrassed by it. Instead, he focused on the last study day before Final Exams were to begin on Thursday.

Later that same day, when he came to visit the Host Club, Harry also found out that the appointment sign-up for Takashi on Wednesdays had been changed to Morinozuka Takashi and Potter Harry, which was kind of flattering (though Harry hadn't realized that he really did only designate Takashi and Mitsukuni), but it was also strange to be made an "honorary member" of the Host Club. The fact that Takashi had immediately noticed he was wearing the necklace and smiled at him – Sweet Circe, who knew Takashi could smile like _that_? - only made Harry more embarrassed... and yet pleased. He could freely admit that he did feel something beyond friendship for Takashi (and how could he not? Takashi was perfect in all aspects but for a few flaws that were actually rather flattering), but it was still kind of awkward.

After all, Takashi was only being polite, even if Harry hadn't meant to give him chocolates on Valentines Day.

Though Harry couldn't help but curious when, at a dinner for the three British Ouran students hosted by the Grangers, Luna had her own Beelzenef doll. It was cute, though the subliminal messages were annoying. The fact that this Beelzenef was white with black eyes and bore a red ribbon did not escape Harry or Hermione.

Friday afternoon, when the Exams were over and Hermione had quit agonizing over them, she could be found threatening to do things to Umehito if he ever hurt her "sister". The effect was rather ruined by Luna finding them and giving Umehito a big hug. It was kind of cute though.

Meanwhile, Harry found out exactly how serious Takashi had been in giving him a White Day gift. Quite serious, as it turned out.

By the time that meeting was over, Harry was quite certain that his lips were bruised.

"So... what does this mean?" Harry asked tentatively after a moment. Takashi's eyes seemed to boring into him as they both panted. Harry could still taste the C-menu onigiri that Takashi had had for lunch that day.

When Takashi leaned in again, his lips brushed Harry's cheek as he whispered in Harry's ear a simple, "Mine."

Harry had never really belonged to someone before. He couldn't help but allow a pleasant shudder to run down his spine.

The next months seemed to fly by as a new girl by the name of Fujioka Haruhi joined the Host Club – though almost no one knew that she was not a he – and with the activities for his many Clubs – Black Magic, Football, and his sort-of membership to the Host Club – Harry found himself busy in his final year of high school.

So the day before his eighteenth birthday, even as he should have been getting ready for the contest in the following week to get the Central Salon for the Football Club (not that they stood much chance against the American Football Club or the Host Club), Harry was pleased to simply be able to enjoy himself. The fact that Takashi had settled in beside him made thins all the better. He leaned on the taller boy lazily, not even bothering to pay attention to the scenery of the Morinozuka gardens that he had long since memorized.

"Harry," Takashi murmured. Harry peeked an eye open and tilted his head from the shoulder/pillow that his head was on to show he was paying attention. But Takashi didn't continue, simply laying a kiss on the place where Harry had once had a lightning-bold shaped scar.

Harry could only look at him in confusion for a moment before he realized what Takashi meant by it. His eyes widened further before softening and he nuzzled his face into Takashi's neck instead of the shoulder he had previously utilized.

"I love you too," he murmured as Takashi buried his face in shaggy black hair. The smile Harry felt on the top of his head was all the answer necessary.

**Author's Note: As I said before, this has NOTHING to do with Harry Potter and the Host Club. This is a one-shot, and that is all... though I'm really tempted to write some scenes from this. But I'll try not to. The point is, this is not me trying to start another story. If you want to use anything from this to write your own, fine. Have at it. I thought the entire thing up Thursday after school.**

**In other news, Happy Birthday to Marauder Heir! I hope you liked your gift :D**

**Hm, dunno really how it turned out. I've never written a one-shot crossover before. I've only got HPatHC and I tried writing a HP/Naruto xover once, but it didn't work out that well and was summarily dropped. Quite the information dump at the start of the story though... ehheh...**

**Well, hope you lot liked it. I was intending to take Thursday/Friday/Saturday off so I could keep up with my social obligations... I guess I kinda did since this isn't HPatHC, but it's still writing, HP/Ouran, and Takashi/Harry. Oh well.**

**If you couldn't tell, the side-pairings were Neko/Luna, future!Tamaki/Hermione, and past!Sirius/Remus. I was going to do Tamaki/Haruhi and Kasanoda/Hermione, but I decided against it.**

(1) Hani always has to have a cute nickname... and I wrote this part around midnight on Saturday. So there.

(2) Harry was born July 31, Hani on February 29 the following year (Takashi is May 5, same year as Harry)

(3) In Japan, girls give the guy they like chocolate on Valentines Day. If they make it themselves, it's like saying that guy is the only one for them.

(4) White Day is the day when boys return that affection with a gift of their own (one month after V-day, on March 14th).


	2. Silver Dough

Warnings: Canon-ish to HP6, fanon beyond that, spoilers to both Harry Potter and Ouran High School Host Club, slash, not HpatHC compatible

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR and affiliates, of which I am not one. Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisuko and associates, of which I am not one.

Features: Hardworking!Harry, !Takashi (Takashi needs no prefix), Devious!Hani, and various other characters from both fandoms

Silver Dough

Harrison Baker, a native Englishmen living in Tokyo, Japan, couldn't help but smile at the perfect little roses on his latest cake. Of course, he hadn't always been Harrison Baker – it was an alias, and he still went by his real name, Harry, usually – but he didn't mind the change. He checked the preservation charms on the display case before placing the cake inside. It wasn't due to be picked up for an hour, and it really was a nice cake.

"Wow! These are such pretty cakes!" Harry glanced outside and saw a little blond boy had his face pressed against the window. It seemed that the Shika no Hana Bakery (Deer's Flower, a play on words) had customers.

He was about the size of a fourth or fifth year elementary student but Harry recalled seeing that same boy wearing a high school uniform, though quite when he could not recall. He thought perhaps when he delivered a birthday cake to the Morinozuka estate a few weeks back. He couldn't particularly remember the name of the school, but he did recall that the students tended to be quite well off, which the Morinozuka family had been.

The blond pulled his face back and looked up to his left with wide brown eyes. "Let's get cakes from this shop, Takashi! Haru-chan will like them, right?"

A low voice replied with a steady and monosyllabic, "Aa." The small boy reached out his arms beyond the edge of the window and pulled a much taller boy – over six feet at least – with slate gray eyes and black hair that could rival Harry's in messiness, though it probably wasn't as unruly. This boy, he thought, was the one who had delivered the cake for in the first place.

Harry couldn't help but smile as the smaller of the two – he wasn't sure of the blond's age, but given the uniform he suspected the boys was more than double what one might first suspect – dragged the taller boy. It was sweet. Still, he turned the amused expression to one of welcome.

"Irashaimase! (1)" Harry said politely. "Is there anything in particular I can interest you boys in?" Of course, the taller boy – Takashi, the smaller had called him – was probably about the same age as Harry who was 17 (only for another few months though), so referring to them both as "boys" wasn't quite accurate.

"Do you have little cakes?" asked the smaller. "We're going to our friend Haru-chan's house today, and we wanted to bring cakes for all our friends to eat."

"Uh-huh, no problem," Harry gestured to the other end of the counter. "There are some over there. Just pick the ones you want and how many of each. I'll get them from the back." He stayed a polite distance away, keeping himself busy at the mixer as he whipped up some frosting for the cakes that he had pulled from the oven only an hour before.

The blond boy seemed busy pointing out various cakes to his companion, asking if "Haru-chan" would like this or that cake, commenting on how pretty yet another was that he thought he would get and have sent home for later or perhaps he would order it for a club meeting. While his small stature and exuberant nature made him seem young, Harry was still convinced by the uniform that he had to be at least fifteen, more likely sixteen or seventeen.

"Do any of these not have a lot of sugar? Kyou-chan doesn't like too much sugar, but he does like raspberries." Harry smiled at the blond.

"Yeah, I've got a few low-sugar cakes in back," he stated, which was true, "and I usually keep a few plain to decorate on special order, so I can fix that up quickly while you finish deciding on what you would like. You two mind watching the front for me in case I get another customer while I'm back there? I don't want the shop to get destroyed; we've only been set up for a month after all."

The blond chuckled while Harry was certain the taller boy held back a smile. With one last wave, he went into the back half of the shop, which was where he kept the ovens. Mixing up batter and decorating could be done up front, which was what he did, but the ovens and "freezers" (cabinets with preservation charms, actually) had to stay in back simply because that was how the shop had been built when he purchased it.

Harrison Sirius Baker, better known as Harry James Potter, had been in Japan for only two months, having arrived in the midst of the break between the old school year and new one for Japanese students. Of course, this would have been the opportune time to sign up at any number of academies, be they magical or muggle. The Potter name carried a weight that could get him in, no questions asked, but after the past year or so he didn't really want that.

When Dumbledore had fallen from the parapet, he was certain that his world had cracked. Even more so when the locket turned out to be a fake. But in the night when he returned to the Dursleys, Fawkes appeared in a ball of fire and took him away to Grimmauld Place, where the real locket horcrux was kept.

All in one night, Fawkes brought Harry to each place where the horcruxes were hidden, but not back to Hogwarts where the only methods of destruction for the foul items known to Harry could be found. He tried asking Fawkes to take him there, but he found out why the next morning with the arrival of the Daily Prophet; Voldemort had taken over the ancient castle in the night, and it was now his stronghold.

The foul collection rested in Harry's trunk until his birthday, when a great blaze of spell fire alerted him to the presence of Death Eaters rather than his friends. He vanished into the night and spent weeks roughing it and living out of what he had in his trunk or he could discretely buy with the gold stowed in his trunk. Then came the attack on the Ministry on the first of September.

Very few were killed, but many were injured or captured, and Voldemort had taken over the government. Right at the front had been Ron and Hermione, waiting to be executed. But Voldemort claimed he would save them for last as a taunt. That game Harry time, and he apparated to Hogsmeade before taking his Firebolt to Hogwarts and flying in the Headmaster's office. A room that, it seemed, Voldemort had been denied entry.

The sword of Gryffindor destroyed each of the horcruxes and Harry had only Voldemort and Nagini left to deal with. He returned to the Ministry before the executions had even started – it seemed that Voldemort still loved to monologue.

Off to the side, he could see that Nagini lay dead, apparently killed by an attempted escape from some prisoners, but Voldemort obviously didn't mind. He must not know that Harry had destroyed Hufflepuff's Cup, Slytherin's Locket, and Ravenclaw's Brooch, and so didn't realize that his last tether to immortality had been used up.

That was when Harry stepped out of the crowd. He didn't look much the part of a hero. His hair was scruffier from usual from camping the past month, he had a bit of stubble on his chin, and he really had looked more like some crazed hobo than the Great Harry Potter, prophesied vanquisher of the Dark Lord, etc, etc. But by the lightning mark on his forehead and eyes that were comparable to the killing curse that Voldemort kept saying he was going to use on the prisoners... well, he was unmistakable as anyone else.

They had dueled and Harry... well, he lost. He died, and not very magnificently. Voldemort caught him with a trip jinx and, with his wand pressed to the same place it had been the first time he ever tried to kill the child of prophecy, said Avada Kedavra. As if Harry's death meant nothing.

Turns out, Harry's death meant a lot. When he came to, Voldemort was about to kill Hermione – Ron's form was already crumpled on the ground, dead – and Harry struck with that same bolt of green magic.

The next six months went from paradise to hell, very quickly. Everyone wanted Harry to be their friend. At first he didn't mind too much, because they needed this release. Just as they needed someone to blame, they needed someone to praise, and Harry didn't want to take away their newfound joy. He didn't bask in it or anything, and he kept his real friends – Hermione, Neville, Luna, and Ginny – close. It was the latest of these friends who ruined it for him.

Towards the end of November, once Harry was finally getting used to the mantle of Head Boy and Quidditch Captain that had been settled upon him in mid-September when McGonagall restarted school, Ginny approached him. And she asked why he hadn't gotten back together with her. Honestly, Harry couldn't recall why they had_started_ dating – for all the month _that_ lasted – and stated so plainly.

And then she tried to hit him with an Adoration Charm. He was shocked and brought up a shield by instinct, which was when Slughorn found them and asked why they had their wands out and why the hall smelt of Amortentia. Harry had found the grass and wood-smell strange, but only realized it when the potions master mentioned it. The hand Ginny had behind her back contained a phial of Amortentia. Harry had been horrified and not left his private rooms for a week due to a panic attack.

After all, it's not every day that he found out he had never really loved Ginny.

It went down hill from there, as Hermione tried to use him for rebound from Ron, even if she herself didn't realize it, and the public started to wonder if _he_, for using an unforgivable on the Dark Lord who had so terrorized them, were not going dark himself. That was, of course, ridiculous, but Harry still took a lot of flak in the last two week before the holiday vacation started.

He did not return to Hogwarts in January, instead researching to find a place to escape to and transferring funds into a proxy account "just in case." By March the first, the public believed he was a Dark Lord out to kill them all, and he had a fake identity planted for his move to Japan. It took one month to find a permanent place of residence and set up his bakery.

And now, a month after opening, Harry had to shake his head free of those thoughts as he used raspberries to make the plain white cake with butter-frosting into an elegant piece. While the blond boy had not specified who "Kyou-chan" was, Harry suspected that all the friends he was talking about went to the same private academy as he suspected they went to.

The small cake was placed in a box that he brought out to the front, where the small boy had moved on to talking about one of the larger strawberry cakes that Harry had on display. He also noticed that the tall one seemed to have decided which cake he wanted, though he seemed intent on remaining silent.

"Here's the raspberry cake," Harry announced his presence. "Glad to see my shop is still in tact; you never know what might happen."

"You wouldn't have had to worry!" The blond piped happily, drawing his attention reluctantly from the cakes. "Takashi is the National Kendo Champion and I'm the Karate Champion in the high school level! Even if a band of robbers had come in, we could protect your shop!"

Harry whistled, honestly impressed. Two high school martial arts champions – which did confirm his suspicions as to where he recognized them from – was certainly not the usual fare at his shop. In the past month, he'd had parents getting birthday cakes a lot, or boyfriends getting a gift for a girlfriend, and the odd wedding cake, but they were all fairly normal people – excepting the one Morinozuka order.

"Then I left my shop in competent hands," Harry grinned. He pulled a notepad and ballpoint pen from under the cash register. "So, have you and Takashi-san decided on what cakes you would like to bring with you to your friend's house?"

"Yep! I want to get two tangerine cakes for Kao-chan and Hika-chan 'cause they like all the same things and they're twins," he pointed out the little white cake with pieces of tangerine pieces in it, "and the chocolate one with the frosting-crown on it for Tama-chan. He says he's the King of the Host Club, even though Kyou-chan really does most of the work, but he likes chocolate."

"The crown is a banana frosting," it was actually a special cake that he made for a boy's birthday party and several had ordered it since so he kept a small one on display. It was a rather obscure recipe though, and a few patrons had changed their minds upon hearing that. "In case he doesn't like banana..."

"No, Tama-chan likes bananas," the blond boy nodded, already moving on. "For Haru-chan, we want to get the pink cake with strawberries, and I want that one!" He pointed quite specifically to Harry's signature fruit cake – which was actually made mostly of uncooked strawberries baked into cake mix and frosted to look like a strawberry. More than one customer had already asked how he managed to have the strawberries remain uncooked, only to laugh when he replied with "magic.

"Got it," he jotted that cake down as well, though he didn't write a name for this one since he still didn't know the boy's name. "And you, Takashi-san?"

Takashi did not say anything, but he gestured to a small lemon cake. Harry jotted that down as well and after bidding his customers to wait a moment he retrieved each of the specified cakes from the back and placed them in boxes identical to the first one. He wrote each name in hiragana with a sharpie and brought the boxes to the front where he marked the raspberry cakes box with "Kyou-chan."

"And what should I mark your box with?" Harry asked. While not being labeled would make it stand out enough, it was still courteous to do so.

"Wha – oh! Sorry, I'm Haninozuka Mitsukuni!" The large toothy grin didn't seem at all abashed, and Harry wrote "Mitsu-kun" on top. All the boxes now had a nickname on top, mostly ones that Mitsukuni himself had used, though Harry decided on Mitsu-kun and Taka-kun on his own. Since he only knew nicknames for their friends, he might as well do them all like that.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mitsukuni-san, Takashi-san," Harry nodded to each. "Baker Harrison (2), but you can just call me Harry."

They paid for the seven cakes and left, and Harry figured he would never see those particular boys ever again. His cakes were certainly good, but it was obvious that they were from high class families; his cakes were simple no matter how he could make them appear and not as well suited to the tastes of the rich.

* * *

He found out not a week later that he was quite mistaken when Mitsukuni and Takashi returned late in the day, not long before Harry was intending to close for the evening. He smiled and greeted them both by name. Mitsukuni browsed the cakes on display before declaring which one he wanted.

Harry did mention that there were a much larger variety of cakes on advance order after their third visit, since the ones in the window and under the counter were merely his specialties and the most common buys, and Mitsukuni ordered quite a few when he saw the options. For a high school student and martial artist, he apparently had quite the sweet tooth.

Soon, it wasn't abnormal for Harry to see them once or more a week. He smiled and was polite, but didn't treat them any different from his other customers. After all, he was a professional and took his job and his shop quite seriously.

"Harry-chan," Mitsukuni started a few minutes into a visit. He was calmer than normal, not buzzing about as if on a perpetual sugar high, "why are you always here when we come?"

Harry blinked. It was a strange question. "Er, because you always come during business hours," he furrowed his brows. What was Mitsukuni trying to get at?

"No, I mean why is it always _you_ who's here? What about the baker, or anyone else who works here?" Mitsukuni's brow was furrowed, apparently having been puzzling over this for some time.

Harry could have laughed, but instead shrugged. "Well, I'm sure if there were anyone else who worked here you would meet them," Harry replied easily. "And I _am_ the baker. Each cake on display or that you have purchased I made." It was the truth, but by the wide-eyed shock on Mitsukuni's face, it was apparently highly unexpected.

Not that Harry hadn't expected it to be unexpected given the way Mitsukuni put the query.

"But you can't be older than Takashi and I, and I know this shop is open during school hours!" Mitsukuni protested. "It's open all day every day, and I saw on the sign that the hours didn't change for the summer vacation." Actually, there had been a change, of two hours taken off each day for Harry to sit his NEWTs, though he took the Japanese equivalent rather than the real deal; he didn't want to go to Europe anytime soon.

Ah, that did make sense then; Mitsukuni was worried for Harry's education. Considering he was quite happy to just run his little bakery, Harry felt that his education wasn't paramount, though he did a bit of studying here and there. And he hadn't studied muggle subjects in seven years, so he really hoped that Mitsukuni didn't try to convince him to go to a proper school.

"I'm going to be a legal adult soon anyway," by magical standards, he already was, which emancipated him in the muggle world, "and running this bakery seems just fine to me. I am, after all, a baker." Technically he was a Potter, and he was horrible are pottery, but that wasn't the point. He hadn't _meant_ to make a pun; he was just lucky that saying Baker and baker had a difference due to the language barrier.

"But what if the bakery doesn't do well or..." Mitsukuni started listing of tragedies. Harry was amused and looked to Takashi for an ally in this; he wasn't sure if he should be surprised that Takashi had taken the side of the worry-wart rather than be simply entertained by the tirade.

"Honest, even if the bakery goes under I'll be fine," Harry defended when he realized that both of the students were worried about him. "It's really no big deal."

"And your parents?" This was Takashi. It wasn't odd for him to interject the odd comment, but Harry still couldn't help but be surprised. He rubbed the back of his neck unconsciously. "Yeah, well, 'dead men tell no tales' and all that. They can't exactly have a say in the matter at this point."

Revealing that he was an orphan never ended well, and Harry eyed Mitsukuni for a moment before he was tackled in a hug and heard some diatribe about how poor and unfortunate he was. That tackle set him into the corner of the display case, but Harry only winced slightly before straightening them both up. He sighed and pried of his customer and friend.

"Mitsu-kun, I already said it's not a big deal," Harry was careful to keep his hands on Mitsukuni's shoulders to avoid being tackle-hugged again. "They've been dead since I was a kid, so it's not like my situation is anything new. And I suppose it's because of the money I inherited from them that I managed to buy this space and open my shop."

"But –"

"No buts," He said sternly. Harry had to get his message across. "When I said it, I meant it. I have been fine all my life without parents, and now that I'm living on my own I'm fine. Even if the bakery went under I would be fine; my inheritance is enough to last quite some time. So _please_ don't tackle me again like that? I don't fancy crashing into the display cases again."

"Okay Harry-chan," Mitsukuni looked halfway horrified and rather distraught, but he kept his head. "But you should still go to school."

"I study at home, and I already sat my exams while you were on vacation," Harry corrected. "I'm still learning and I passed all the pertinent scores." At this point he was wondering when Mitsukuni would turn his attention back to the sweets. There hadn't been a special order to pick up that day, so Mitsukuni would probably just get some cookies or something else. "So, did you come here for any other reason than to talk about school?"

"Oh! Right," Mitsukuni really did seem a bit abashed for once. "Kyou-chan asked Takashi and I to order some cakes for an event on Friday. We were going to order them anyway, because Ouran is having a festival and Takashi and I are in charge of the sweet shop in our class' display, but since the club won the competition to get the Central Salon, Kyou-chan said we should order some cakes and then he mentioned that he liked the raspberry cake we got for him in May and that if we remembered what bakery it was from that we should try to get cakes from there." He said this all in one breath, which was quite impressive.

"Friday?" It was Monday already, and Friday was his birthday. He was actually intending to close down the shop that night and all weekend, but... well, he could drop off the order when it was required without actually working that day. Yes, and then he could still check out the festivals without any problem. "Well, you can just write a list of all the cakes you want and I'll make sure they get to your school on Friday. Just be sure to leave some contact information so I can get you to come and get them when I get there, okay?"

Mitsukuni readily agreed, and Harry went back behind the counter to get the notepad he kept under the register, only to be stopped by a hand on his wrist. He didn't react terribly much, just half turning and perking an eyebrow at Takashi.

Funny how _he_ meant to be a bit intimidating, and yet the hard stare that Takashi had fixed on him almost made Harry blush. Why the _hell_ was Takashi staring at his butt?!

"Takashi-kun, do you see something you like or shall I just get the notepad for you both?" Harry was actually surprised by his own daring, but his didn't show it. Even though he'd barely learned anything from those occlumancy lessons with Hogwarts' resident bat (Snape), he could still guard his emotions better than that same bats techni-color cousin (Trelawney).

Takashi's gaze darted up, startled. He didn't respond for a moment before dropping Harry's wrist and looking slightly away.

"You're bleeding," he finally stated. Harry's hand went immediately to the area of his back that had bit the display case, and sure enough his shirt was warm, wet, sticky, and stuck to a wound of some sort. He must have hit the corner.

"Thanks for telling me that, Takashi-kun," Harry frowned slightly. He didn't know any medical magic more reliable than the one he had learned off of Tonks, and since he couldn't see the damaged area it would be a good idea to try _Episkey_ anyway. "I'll close early and get it checked at the Hospital then. I guess the endorphins kicked in soon enough that I didn't really get the chance to feel what happened."

No way was he actually going to mention how the injury came to be when Mitsukuni was in an empathic mood. Harry couldn't claim to know the just-younger boy (for Mitsukuni's eighteenth birthday would be in February while Harry's was in a few days), he had a feeling that saying the cause of his apparent bleeding would not be good.

"Now?" Takashi clarified. Mitsukuni seemed to be busy mentally cataloguing which cakes he would order for each group, and so was not bothered by the exchange.

"When you two have left I think," Harry took care to smile as if nothing was wrong, and come to think of it very little was. He couldn't say how big whatever it was just so happened to be, nor how fast it was bleeding, how close to scabbing it was, nothing. But a single trip to a magical hospital would fix him up right as rain, so it hardly mattered to begin with.

He continued on to grab the notepad and had opened the slim drawer that contained it, a few pens, and the keys to the shop. However, when he moved to close the drawer, Harry found it empty. A jingle and click behind him said that the kitchen door had been locked, and he soon found himself being led out by Takashi, who also locked the store front before making Harry go to the car that had brought both Takashi and Mitsukuni to the shop as it always did.

The best car Harry had ever been in (barring Arthur Weasley's Ford Anglia) had been the Ministry car that had taken him to King's Cross in third year. Stretch limousines, as it just so happens, are far better than whatever model the Ministry bought, though Harry was a bit too annoyed with Takashi to really mind that.

"I'm perfectly fine to get to the hospital on my own, and it's not that bad," Harry grumbled as Takashi forced him to get in the car. Takashi did not reply and touched the part of Harry's back that was bleeding through his shirt and showed rather red, drippy fingers to Harry as if to say "oh _really_?" Harry grimaced. "Okay, a bit worse than I thought, but it isn't all that bad."

Of course, by this time, Mitsukuni was worried as well and actually tried to help Harry to a seat. He sighed and denied the help, sitting down just fine without their aid, though he felt the slightest twinge from stretching his wound, but it was hardly anything. And now that he wasn't concentrating on anything other than trying to not bleed on the upholstery, Harry could feel that the blood was dripping farther down, but for now he was safe so long as he stopped his back from connecting.

While he was being driven to the hospital – a muggle hospital at that – Harry forced at least Mitsukuni to focus on something else by asking them to compile the list of cakes they would need. Most people would send notice of such a large order more than four days in advance, but considering Harry did have magic on his side, he didn't have to worry much about that.

They arrived at the hospital, and even though Harry insisted otherwise both boys came in with him to the Emergency Room rather than just dropping him off, so he couldn't apparate to a better equipped place.

In the ER he had to take off his shirt and lie on his stomach on the table so that the doctor could sanitize and put stitches in what turned out to be a two-inch long gash just a little above and to the side of his tail bone. Harry did this without complaint, though he did mourn the loss of his shirt; he rather liked that one after all, and not even magic could get blood out.

Of course, this also meant that Takashi and Mitsukuni saw the few scars that Harry had. He supposed he could have had more, given when he had gone through, so the one on his shoulder from the Hungarian Horntail, one on his side from a accident in his childhood, and the mark on his left forearm from Voldemort's resurrection were bared when before they had been covered, each and every visit. Given he always wore a long-sleeved and collared shirt under his apron, not even the thin white line on his arm had been visible.

But Harry didn't really mind and had no problem when he had to pay for the treatment; the Potters had been quite well off, maybe not so rich as the students of Ouran, but still rich. He didn't _have_ to have the bakery, but it was part of what he viewed as a normal existence that he should have a job. And why not work at something he liked? Maybe his interests would wane later in life, but for now he was satisfied.

Although Mitsukuni and Takashi still seemed a bit worried – apparently the gash and his blood-smeared back hadn't looked too pretty – Harry managed to convince them that it was perfectly alright for him to take the bullet train home, and he left them with his notepad tucked securely into his back pocket. The he got the gash taken care of properly at a wizarding hospital apparated back to the shop, and opened up for one more hour than night.

Pretending to be a muggle, he decided, was an exhausting business.

* * *

On Friday at four pm, Harry brought his first delivery to Ouran High School for the festival. People were only just starting to arrive, and more classes and clubs were going over some last minute directions. Harry barely withheld a grin as one boy in a hurry was running with a tea tray and kept on having to stop because the teapot almost fell over. A classic case of the tortoise and the hare.

Wheeling the trolley stacked with cake boxes to the East Building and the entrance to the gym, Harry took a moment to find a ramp before he made his way in. He stopped dead in his tracks, shocked.

Venice. He was standing in the middle of Venice. He slowly shook his head and took care to ask directions from a student wearing Venitian attire to the sweet shop that was being run by Mitsukuni and Takashi.

"You mean Hani-kun and Mori-kun?" The girl asked. "They're just two blocks over. Be careful going over the bridges though; if it weren't for that trolley you could use a gondola, but the bridges will have to do." And then she went back to... whatever she was doing.

Harry dropped off the sweets and checked that he was to bring the cakes for the Host Club (whatever that was) event in another two-and-a-half hours. Mitsukuni wanted him to stay, but Harry begged off, saying that he had to go make sure that everything was ready. That wasn't much more time than the required given that he had to get back to the shop, load two trolleys of confections, and then get back to the school.

As it turned out, there was actually an extra half hour in that, but he didn't mind and took care to have the first trolley delivered to the correct place before he dismissed the truck and driver he had hired. He started on his way to the Central Salon with the second trolley, humming slightly as he weaved through the crowd of high-class people to find the Salon.

A young man, perhaps a year or two younger than Harry, was standing by the first trolley and marking things in a notebook as he looked around the delivery. Harry recognized him from Mitsukuni's description as "Kyou-chan", better known as Ootori Kyouya.

"Ootori-san, this is the last load," Harry bowed ever-so-slightly to the glasses-wearing student, who didn't seem at all surprised to see him. "I can set everything out on proper dollies, if you like." Quite a way to spend his eighteenth birthday. Back in Britain he would probably be going out with his friends, someone treating him to his first (legal) drink in some pub, and generally having a good time.

Harry tried not to think of how his life was so much less exciting now. He was happy with his life, but he did miss Britain, especially Luna, Neville, and Hermione. Molly Weasley would probably have thrown him a birthday party or something... but he had guaranteed he wouldn't get so much as a card this year by setting up an anti-owl ward on his person. So far as the mail birds were concerned, Harry was not on earth or dead, and therefore not in any sort or state to be receiving their mail.

He shook himself of thoughts of the past and started setting out the wide variety of cakes than Mitsukuni had ordered for his club's activities.

"Would you mind staying?" the potential Ootori heir asked. Harry quirked a brow at the younger male. "Our members will be busy this evening with our duties and entertaining the clientèle, and someone will need to distribute the cakes. We would, f course, pay you for the trouble."

Harry sighed and momentarily cursed himself for being so darn nice. "No, no need," he shook his head. "I'll just consider it a favor to your club, shall I?" Favors were far more useful to Harry than money. He had more than enough of the latter, and one never knew when a favor could come in handy.

So he spent his evening in that Salon, giving out the many cakes to the Host Club's guests. Mitsukuni and Takashi spent a fair amount of time at his cart, and he met a girl named Fujioka Haruhi – obviously Haru-chan – who Harry immediately pegged not only as female despite the fact that she was wearing men's clothing, but also as not being quite the same as the rich folk. She acted more like he did; a middle-class kid tossed into a strange world, except for Harry it was the world of magic while for Haruhi it was the world of the rich.

When Harry returned to his flat that night, he was about ready to collapse and thanked Merlin for his ever-so-soft bed.

* * *

Mitsukuni and Takashi came regularly, and it wasn't until October that Harry realized that it wasn't entirely because of the cakes. Sure, he had a sort of friendship with the martial artists, but he hadn't realized that he, to them, was actually important in any way until that day.

The schools were on another vacation – a summer vacation in autumn – and there was a festival going on in several sectors of the city. Harry had considered setting up a booth somewhere, but decided he would rather enjoy the festivities than be stuck in a booth selling cakes. He even took the full day off so he could buy a kimono and just spend his time idly wandering one of the festivals.

At one point, as Harry moving through the crowd, he ran into a rather irate girl wearing far too much make-up and with an intense tan stomping through the crowd and dragging behind her someone who Harry was certain was Haruhi, but they kept on going so he dismissed the incident. Harry just continued on his way and looked around the booths. He'd never been to any sort of festival except for the Quidditch Cup the once, and it was so far turning out to be interesting.

"Harry-chan!" He whipped around and was rather surprised to see all of the strange "Host Club" that he had met were coming his way. Mitsukuni and Takashi were the only ones that seemed at all enthusiastic of course, but Harry was surprised nonetheless.

He had figured than a festival like this might be too plebeian for a bunch of rich playboys, but apparently this was not so.

So he smiled to mask the surprise. "Mitsu-kun, Takashi-kun," he addressed them first since they were the ones he knew best. "Ootori-san, Suou-san, Kaoru-san, Hikaru-san." He made sure to nod to each person in turn, though the red-headed twins looked a bit surprised at that. He assumed it was because he told them apart, but after Fred and George they were easy.

"Harry-chan, your shop was closed today!" Mitsukuni looked pouty. Harry moved to reassure him that he could make a special cake later, but Mitsukuni continued. "We were trying to find you and invite you to come with us to the festival with us, but you weren't there and you didn't pick up when we called!"

They had been intending to actually take him to the festival? Harry was surprised, but again he worked to not show it, acting instead sheepish as he apologized.

But they had thought of him, and that was nice.

* * *

Since August, Harry knew he had been nursing a crush. He tried to stomp it down, since he knew that the person he liked – a certain very tall boy who frequented his shop – did not think of him like that, certainly. The October revelation that this certain person at least noticed him in some way, did not help him in this course of action.

Quite to the contrary. In fact, it soon became the highlight of Harry's week when Mitsukuni and Takashi came to visit his shop, not that it hadn't been already, as well as on the occasions when he was called upon to make cakes for the Ouran Host Club. Through November, Harry was a bit nervous, but he made sure to keep himself in line and not giving any untoward signs to the fine specimen before him.

Towards to the middle of December, Harry received a call from Hitachiin Kaoru, one of Mitsukuni's twin friends. The first part of the call was an order for a bunch of his cakes, cookies, and other sweets to be brought to the Hitachiin Mansion on New Year's Eve. The second part, surprisingly enough, was an invitation to a party on that same date at that same place.

Since Harry had no one in Japan that he considered family, he was mostly spending the holiday season baking and working anyway, though he did send out Christmas gifts to his friends in Britain. Muggle mail was something he quite liked, as he couldspell it so that no one would know where it came from when an owl, if sent by him, could be sent back.

Taking New Year's night itself off was not a bad idea, and Harry could do with some social interaction beyond that which he usually had at the shop. He put up a notice stating the early closure that would be on the holiday, and when the time came he had a nice suit and had hired a delivery truck again to take him and the cakes to the party location. Both of the Hitachiin twins greeted him and had servants set up the cakes while Harry hid the trolleys away to shrink and place in his pockets later that night.

Only half an hour after arriving, Harry wasn't entirely certain as to why he had accepted the invitation. He didn't know these people – they were all classy students and he was just some baker who dropped out of Hogwarts (sort of) – and he could honestly say that he did not belong here.

The only ones h e really knew were Mitsukuni and Takashi, and he didn't want to be hanging around them like the pathetic nobody that he was at this party. They didn't need a hanger on and he really shouldn't even be there.

Standing in the corner with a glass of punch, Harry could pretend to not be as uncomfortable as he was. He looked like he was antisocial, true, but it was better than depending on anyone else to be social. It was perhaps childish, but he didn't mind.

Though the appearance of Takashi at his side was a bit of a surprise, when he was sure that no one would have given him even a second glance, Harry smiled in welcome, though it was a bit strained. To be honest, he had been considering leaving before Mitsukuni and Takashi actually noticed him.

"Takashi-kun, nice to see you," Harry tried to make it seem as though he didn't mind the party atmosphere. It was difficult, as he was an outsider, but he could make it seem as though he wasn't uncomfortable at least. Or so he thought.

"You aren't enjoying the party," Takashi stated quite plainly. Apparently Harry was more transparent that previously believed.

"Er, well, it is a nice party," Harry rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Takashi was standing a bit too close for comfort. "I'm just not used to going to these sorts of things, where I don't know anyone. It's no big deal." Though it was a big enough deal for him to decide that fleeing for home was better than to remain.

"Sorry," Harry looked at Takashi strangely; what had he to be sorry for. "I asked Kaoru to invite you."

"Oh," to say that the wizard was surprised would be more than a bit of an understatement. Of course Takashi would be worried about him just hanging out in the corner then, and more so if he hadn't shown up at all. "Er, well I just -"

But Takashi shook his head to cut Harry off and led him over to the table Mitsukuni was sitting at, eating one of Harry's specialty strawberry cakes. Harry had to admit that being with his two friends did make the experience more enjoyable, but he felt guilty since he felt like he was forcing himself on them despite the fact that it was Takashi that had forced Harry on them.

"Look, Takashi-kun, it's not that I don't appreciate it, but maybe I should be heading back home now," Harry sighed. It was almost midnight, and he was feeling no more fitting in than he had been before. He may have been moneyed, but that didn't mean his personality was adjusted for it.

He knew better than to think that he fit in this this sort.

This time Takashi did not stop him, but instead followed him to the coat room where he retrieved the warm jacket that would act as his insulation until he got close enough to the gates that no one would notice him apparating.

"Look, thanks for inviting me," Harry said sheepishy. Takashi was standing too close again, and Harry did his best to look just to the left of Takashi's ear, where a clock displayed it was less than 30 seconds to midnight. "I guess I just wasn't in a party mood." Not quite accurate, but close enough.

"Ten!" The count down had started.

"Nine!" Harry smiled weakly at Takashi and stepped around him to get to the door.

"Eight!" He took a step.

"Seven!" From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Takashi turning as well.

"Six!" Harry took another step.

"Five!" And another.

"Four!" And another.

"Three!" He pushed open the door.

"Two!" His wrist was suddenly caught, and Harry felt himself starting to be turned around.

"One!" He was wheeled completely around another arm was around his waist.

The lips pressed against Harry's shut hit brain down quite well, because he barely noticed anything but that sensation until Takashi had pulled away. Harry had to work to focus his eyes again on the taller boy.

"Um.. H-happy New Year?" Harry blinked. That was a lot better than the mistletoe kiss with Cho or the rather disturbing snogging sessions with Ginny.

Takashi seemed to take this as a good sign and kissed Harry again, this time for no reason. But Harry certainly wasn't going to be complaining.

Happy New Year indeed.

**Author's Note: Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Blissful Festivus, Cheery Solstice, whatever it is you celebrate, most especially to Marauder's Heir with this one (as it's her gift). Decided to just make IWTH into a Takashi/Harry one-shot collection, and so it is. There's one more I'm posting this season, and I may or may not add more to it later, but that's how it is.**

**Yeah, the title is a pun. Harry is a baker and uses dough and Snape's patronus of Lily is a silver doe. I get my punniness from my mom, even if she DOES live 400 miles away. So there. (On a side note, I'm totally happy with her right now because she got me a DS for Xmas; I'm not supposed to know, but I do. The surprise being ruined was ruined further by the power going out at Game Stop when the person picking up the DS got to the register. Stupid snow.)**

**Er... killed Ron... I just don't like him. I'm kind of curious if I will ever write a story where he isn't bad or doesn't die or something... hm... I dunno.**

(1) It basically means 'welcome', and pretty much all shop keepers in Japan say it when someone enters. It's a cultural thing, so I kept it as is.

(2) Pronounced (and spelled) in Japanese as Bekkeru Herison (or that's how it comes out when I try it; I'll ask Tamura-sensei when school starts back up).


	3. The Green uh GrayEyed Monster

Warnings: Slash, spoilers for Harry Potter books/movies (through 4), spoilers for Ouran manga (through chapter 62 (I think?)) and anime (where compatible, spoilers for Harry Potter and the Host Club (all but epilogues), HPatHC compatible, Takashi and Hani graduated (horrible, I know), short

Disclaimers: Harry Potter belongs to JKR and affiliates, Ouran belongs to Bisuko Hatori and affiliates. I am neither of those people, nor am I an affiliate. Written for CluelessRomantic as a 2-week-late Christmas gift. Sorry it's late Taylor!

The Green... uh Gray-Eyed Monster

The bell rang throughout the entire school, and one particular second-year student was perhaps the most eager to be out of his seat. His bag was packed with a well-placed wave of his wand – something that caught his classmates' attention since he rarely used magic at school, even when his contemporaries were all perfectly aware of it – and he could hardly keep a grin from his face. The weekend was going to be a good one.

"Looking forward to your birthday, Harry?" Haruhi asked as they exited class together. Hikaru and Kaoru – both redheads once again – were staying behind to poke fun at the class chairman.

"A bit strange, for me I mean, but yeah," the young wizard couldn't keep a grin off of his face, "I am." They walked the halls together almost like brother and sister – not unusual given their respective father-figures (though, to be fair, Ranka was more of a "parental figure") had been dating for nearly a year – and Harry took his popularity for this school year quite easily considering his isolationist policies of first year.

They separated so Haruhi could get to the Host activities for the day, and Harry exchanged greetings with whoever decided to say hello to him. Comments ranging from classmates wishing him a happy early birthday to asking him about some random magical thing (such as the current exchange rate on yen to galleons and what the new product the Potter-Evans had earned the rights to was) were exchanged, and Ouran's resident wizard merely smiled and responded however was appropriate.

Sure, he was on a miniature pedestal again, but that was only because of magic, and even then the other students treated him normally for the most part. He was just another second-year student at Ouran, even though he was different, which was a step above how the wizards treated him.

When he got out front, Harry found Hanazaka waiting with the car, as usual. He greeted the older man and they drove off towards Todai – that is, Tokyo University. Harry was more than a little excited, and it showed.

Tomorrow was his birthday, and he and Takashi had planned an outing for the weekend. Takashi already had everything packed – inside a small box that was sitting in Harry's car – and his last class would be out within the hour, after which they would be heading out to a house on the beach owned by Takashi's family. It was really no wonder that Harry was looking forward to it.

With twenty minutes left, Harry opted to spend his waiting time in a café and told Hanazaka to tell Takashi so when he came out. With some sort of iced coffee and a muffin in his grasps, he was quite content to take a seat at a small table by the window and enjoy the air conditioning.

Until the scrape of the other chair at his table caught his attention anyway. Harry glanced up to find a young man, probably a college freshman like Takashi, now sitting across from him with an iced coffee already set on the table. Dark hair, tan skin, a lean face, and brown eyes... the typical Japanese man, if a bit more attractive than most.

He didn't hold a candle to Takashi though, and Harry studiously ignored him.

If he had had a mother, she probably would have told him to not talk to strangers.

"Are you a Todai student?" Harry was forced to return his attention to the man with this question. With a low, smooth voice, Harry figured he probably had no problem chatting up girls.

"No," replied the wizard. No reason to say anything else to a student.

"I should have known; isn't that a high school uniform? I don't go there either, but I find the best coffee shops are around the bigger universities," the stranger went on as if Harry were someone he knew. "Take these iced mochas for example. You won't find a better one in all of Japan."

Actually, Harry found it rather mediocre, and told his tablemate so. The man just laughed.

"Well, I have to admit that the coffee has nothing on the company you find in such places," Harry felt a knee bump into his, and at first thought it an accident until the knee returned quite purposefully.

Oh Merlin, the guy was trying to _flirt_ with him.

Harry's knee retreated just as purposefully as the stranger's advanced, perhaps more so since Harry turned his body away from the table rather pointedly and kept his knees to himself.

And yet the guy kept at it. He even dropped a cheesy American pick-up line – something about a bandage, Harry wasn't entirely sure _what_ the guy was saying since whatever it was had been badly translated – and Harry was prepared to leave the air conditioned sanctuary and just wait at the car instead.

Until his savior arrived, that is. Takashi strolled into the door, scanning the shop, and Harry waved him down quickly. Takashi was there, which meant the smarmy git would leave or Harry would, without fear of unwanted harassment.

(Of course, he wouldn't mind Takashi harassing him.)

"Takashi! I was wondering when your class would get out," Harry couldn't help but release a relieved sigh as he stood to embrace Takashi and quite pointedly give him a peck on the cheek. If he suspected anything, Takashi said nothing.

He did, however, glower in a rather menacing manner at the interloper. Harry made sure to not completely detach himself from his wonderful, intimidating boyfriend.

"Er, I..." the man slowly stood from the table and fled to another part of the room with many a second glance at the black-haired pair.

Harry only smiled. Ah, the joys of having a jealous boyfriend.

Now if only he wasn't like that around Krum...

**Author's Note: While writing this, I was listening to the Beatles' movie "Yellow Submarine" – my dad was watching it and there's a tree between me and the tv, so technically I was just listening. It may have affected my judgment somewhat, I don't really know.**


	4. First Crush

Warnings: slash, bullying

Disclaimers: Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Bisuko Hatori and associates of whom I am not one. Harry Potter belongs to JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic, and tons of other companies I'm sure. But not me.

Featuring: Ickle!Takashi, Awesome!Harry, and Amused!Takashi

First Crush

"Stupid rich kids!" the boy screaming this was no more than nine or ten years old, but still a good deal larger than those who had drawn his ire. "You think you're so much better than us."

"Just because you have a lot of money doesn't mean you can just ignore us!" shouted another boy who seemed the same age as the other.

In total, there were three older boys, all wearing the uniform of a local public elementary school. They were large for their age, but their faces gave them away for their true years. In the middle of the group of three sat two boys who were obviously much younger and wearing the uniform of Ouran Shou Gakkou, the most elite private elementary in all of Japan.

Having been thrown to the ground, Morinozuka Takashi was fighting off tears as he tried to protect his younger cousin from the bullies. When they were hit, Mitsukuni had hit his head on the pavement, and he wouldn't wake up even when Takashi shook him, or the one kick that Takashi hadn't been able to block ended up hitting the blond boy in the ribs. Next time they felt like walking home, Takashi knew he would remember this and never do it again. Taking a car was less painful.

_It shouldn't be like this!_ Takashi thought as tears streamed down his face when a kick caught his ankle. The Morinozuka and Haninozuka families were famed for their martial arts skill, and even though Takashi and Mitsukuni had only just started learning after Mitsukuni's sixth birthday, they should have been able to do something. Takashi should have been able to protect his cousin, but he couldn't.

Another kick was being thrown towards Mitsukuni, and Takashi knew he wouldn't be able to move in the way of that one either. He lurched in front of the offending appendage anyway.

But the sound of his cousin's unconscious whimpers did not come, nor the sharp smack of rubber shoe-sole on skin. Takashi didn't feel like he had been kicked, and though he landed on hard concrete, he was not injured in any way from it. He looked up to find two of the boys were in the air, their feet kicking in protest of leaving the ground, while the third had turned tail.

Of course, the two boys weren't in the air under their own steam. The back collars of their shirts were being clenched in the fists of a man who was looking very sternly at them. He was Caucasian, likely American or European, and dressed in obviously designer casual clothes. Takashi had seen one of his older cousins in a similar outfit, and the designer "Hitachiin" came to mind. The man – for he looked to be perhaps in his early twenties, if Takashi was any judge of age – had hair that was blacker and messier than any of the Morinozuka family, and brilliant green eyes the likes of which he had never seen.

With the spring sunlight behind him creating a glow and halo of light, Takashi wondered if he and his cousin had been saved by an angel.

"You boys will never do this again, understand?" The voice was quiet and cold as the struggling children were scolded. "Go home. I'm sure your parents will know what to do with you." They were dropped the last few inches to the ground and ran off.

The man crouched down to Takashi's level, digging through a bag that had been over his shoulder. Takashi watched curiously, but said nothing. He knew he should call his father to get a ride home, or better yet, call 110 to get an ambulance for Mitsukuni, but he'd felt one of the innumerable kicks impact with his pants pocket and break the cell phone his parents had given him when he started school. Mitsukuni didn't have a phone because _he_ did.

And now they were alone with a stranger who was poking through a bag, looking for something. He didn't seem like a _bad_ stranger, but he was still a stranger.

"Here, let me see him," the man said in a muted but warm tone. From his bag, he had procured a glass phial like Takashi had seen when touring a chemistry lab, filled with a dull pinkish-brown liquid and with the topper recently pulled out to allow a wispy silver mist to permeate from the neck of the phial. It was suspicious looking, so far as Takashi was concerned.

He stared momentarily into the right green eyes that seemed to regard him warmly before darting his eyes to the sidewalk and moved from where he sat between the stranger and his cousin. His wounds were aggravated by the movement, but he didn't make a noise because he knew that his father didn't make noise when _he_ was hurt. He couldn't trust a stranger to see him hurt, couldn't trust a stranger to take care of Mitsukuni for that matter, but he couldn't do anything to stop the man either. He was deceivingly strong for being so thin, and Takashi was just a kid.

The man gave Takashi a warm smile, as if to thank him, before moving forward. Mitsukuni was settled in his lap, head tipped back, and the pink-brown liquid was poured into the small child's mouth while the man massaged his throat to make him swallow. When he did, the man turned his attention to Takashi.

"Aside from the blow to the head, was he hit anywhere else?" Takashi nodded soundlessly in reply and indicated where the blows he hadn't prevented had hit. The man examined those places before looking through his bag again and pulling out a small container of some sort of balm. "Here, take some to put on your bruises. I have another container, so don't worry about using it up, alright?"

Again, Takashi nodded and took a small scoop with his fingers and started putting some on his arm. The man was doing the same for Mitsukuni, and Takashi noted the precision with which the action was done; he decided that the man was a good sort of stranger.

"Are you a doctor?" He asked, not halting his observations. Father liked that he was observant, because it meant he would always be aware in a fight if he got into one. Takashi didn't agree, but maybe when he had more training.

"I'm a Healer," the man replied. Takashi wasn't sure of the distinction; a doctor was one who healed, so weren't the terms simo.... sinom... well, he could remember the word his mother used, but they meant the same thing. "It's like being a doctor, but different. More dangerous." He pulled a handkerchief from somewhere and wiped the excess balm from his fingers before digging another jar of a slightly darker color from his bag. "This one is for abrasions." Takashi didn't know that word, and the man clarified. "Scrapes. I'll take care of it, okay?"

Takashi had no chance to reply as he was still applying the bruise balm, and so the man was quick to use his very precise fingers to swipe bits of the scrape balm over Takashi's cuts. It didn't sting like the antibiotics that doctors put on cuts, though it alternated between very cold and very warm.

Soon, Takashi was all patched up – some of his bruises had already faded almost entirely, and he was certain that the "abrasions" on his palms were almost gone – and Mitsukuni seemed to be waking up.

"Do you have someone you can call for a ride home, or shall I walk you?" The healer asked. His head was tilted slightly to the side, unruly black locks swaying in the breeze.

"My phone broke," Takashi pulled out the fragments from his pocket as proof, frowning at the snapped chassis and microchip.

"Do you know a number to call?"

Takashi thought for a moment, wondering if he remembered his father's cell phone number before deciding that he did. The stranger handed over his phone – it was far sleeker than any model Takashi had seen, and the display screen was interesting, but he recognized the brand and it certainly worked – before punching in the number.

The fact that it said "Calling Morinozuka Hitoshi" was a bit of a surprise, because Takashi knew his father's number was a restricted one. Did Caller ID work backwards?

Soon enough, Takashi had arranged with his father to have a car pick up him and Mitsukuni. They only had to wait.

"Who are you?" Takashi asked a moment after returning the phone to the man. As close as the man was, Takashi could see that he had a small scar on his brow, but did not comment as it would be rude.

"I'm Potter Harry," He bowed slightly, though it was awkward given that he had Mitsukuni in his arms. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Morinozuka Takashi," returned the younger of the conscious pair. "My cousin is Haninozuka Mitsukuni." He expected a reaction to this information, but the man - Potter – only smiled. "Thank you for your help, Potter-sama."

That did get a response, as the man wrinkled his nose. "Not so formal, please," he chuckled a bit. "Harry is fine. And 'sama' is far too great a title for me, Takashi-kun." If Takashi had to give a name to the expression on his face at that remark, it would be "wistful," as if his own remark reminded him of something he found amusing.

Takashi thought a moment. A healer was similar to a doctor, the man had said. "Yes, Harry-sensei." (1) Harry only laughed and, looking down at Mitsukuni, suddenly set the small boy on his feet. Takashi moved forward and helped stabilize his cousin, and not a moment later a black car rolled to a stop in front of them.

"You two should make sure to sleep well tonight and wash that goop off in an hour or so," Harry told them as the driver ushered them to the car.

"I want you to come to my birthday party!" Takashi wasn't certain why he said it, but he wouldn't take it back. Inviting the man to his party was a good way to pay him back for helping them. Besides, it wouldn't be like the commoner parties he had heard about; the kids would all be in one part of the party and the adults would have their own part. Maybe his rescuer would make a business connection. Surely that would be a good way to repay him.

Harry smiled and nodded as Takashi was ushered into the car.

It was only when the man was out of sight that Takashi forgot to say what day it was and where he lived.

* * *

Takashi wasn't very happy at his party, but he hid it for Mitsukuni's benefit. He felt really bad for not telling Harry when his party was or where he lived or anything of that sort, and now he was reminded very much of it. He did play with the other children of course, but he still wanted the man to meet his father.

It was just before the light luncheon that Takashi found himself quite surprised. His rescuer was _there_! He wore a smart suit of pale green with a darker green tie, looking just as comfortable in it as he had in his casual clothes earlier that week. He was just arriving and giving his name to Takashi's uncle, who was in charge of the guest list. Takashi had insisted he be added, and so Harry was allowed in.

Green eyes landed on him swiftly, and Takashi found a very soft stuffed dragon was suddenly in front of him. It was black and when he grabbed it and squeezed the middle, it made a sort of "roaring" noise, though it was far different than what a lion sounded like.

"Happy Birthday, Takashi-kun," Harry smiled down at Takashi, and Takashi in turn was quite relieved.

Throughout the day, Takashi was surprised to note that the healer mingled in both the adult group and the children group with little difficulty. When Mitsukuni lost a game, Harry consoled him in just the right way before anyone else had realized he was upset, and he was often supervising games for the children.

He had to leave before dinner. "My fiancé just pulled up," he explained as he put the suspiciously slim phone away. "It was a very nice party Takashi." He bowed with respect, something Takashi knew was not normal for adults to do for children, before turning to Takashi's father. "And you, Morinozuka-sama." And he bowed again, no lower nor any higher than he had to Takashi.

Takashi watched him leave, and when the gate opened to let him out, Takashi saw a very nice black car out front. A man stepped out of it; Takashi couldn't make out his features, but he was surprised to see Harry reach up and that man reach down to kiss one another before getting in the car.

But the child only smiled and went back to the party. His friend was happy and loved.

Though something in him was sad. He liked Harry a lot.

* * *

When he got in the car, Harry laughed lightly at the disgruntled look on his fiancé's face. "What's wrong, Takashi?"

"That was mean," he divulged. Harry only smiled a bit and raised an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about? I just gave you a gift... well, I gave you a gift when you were seven, but that's neither here nor there. And we're celebrating your twenty-fifth birthday together, right? And _you're_ the one who chose 1995 (2) for our vacation."

Takashi blushed a little and only averted his gaze from the road a little bit. "Tease."

That... well, it didn't make much sense to Harry. "How so?"

"You were my first crush, you know," Takashi's gaze was now firmly forward. Harry grinned and chuckled a bit.

"That's so cute!"

Takashi said nothing, his cheeks a bit more red than before.

"Well, you got me in the end, and you still have me, so that's that."

They reached a stop light just then; Harry grabbed Takashi's tie and pulled him over for a kiss.

Sure, they say you don't marry your first love, but the world made a lot of exceptions for Harry Potter already. What was one more?

So they drove on.

**Author's Note: Yeah... just a bit of fluff for Takashi's birthday (May 5, Kodomo no Hi/Children's Day). You can consider this as HPatHC compatible or not, it's really up to you. Coincidentally, my older sister has the same birthday as Takashi and is turning 20 this year. Not that she reads fanfiction... anymore. (Well, I think she did; I know she used to write some very risqué slash stuff when I was still in middle school.)**

(1) Sensei is used to address doctors as well as teachers.

(2) In the HPatHC timeline (since it was bumped up ten years from the Harry Potter timeline), Takashi would have turned seven in 1995.


	5. Savior

**Hey, I posted another Insert yesterday, part 2 of Alteration, so if you haven't read that please go back and do so (if you care to follow that story anyway)**

Warnings: not-quite-slash, mentioned abuse/neglect, bullying, sequel to First Crush (Insert #4) but I suppose it could be read individually

Disclaimers: Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Bisuko Hatori and associates of whom I am not one. Harry Potter belongs to JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic, and tons of other companies I'm sure. But not me.

Featuring: Ickle!Harry, Defender!Takashi, and Grateful!Harry

_Sorry to break up Alteration, but this was my original plan for what I wanted to post for Harry's birthday, and there's no better time to do it! I mean, y'know, unless you wanted me to wait another year for it._

Savior

Harry braced himself for the impact to the ground with practiced ease. Really, this was nothing new, and the slight rebound from hitting the play structure was enough for him to prevent his head from getting hit too hard. Even though he was only five years old – as of that same day – Harry knew how to protect himself from undue injury without his attacker realizing that he wasn't doing maximum damage.

It helped that his attacker was Harry's cousin, an obese child with blond hair and watery blue eyes, since Dudley Dursley, also age five, wasn't the brightest crayon in the box. Even though neither boy was in school yet, Harry knew his cousin wasn't smart. Of course, Harry wasn't smart either – no, he was a worthless freak – but he thought he might be smarter than Dudley.

"I told you not to come near me!" Dudley wailed, tears streaming down his fat cheeks. As Harry's birthday "treat" for the year, he was allowed to go to the park with his aunt and cousin. He wasn't allowed to play, just go and watch other children have fun while he listened to his aunt tell the neighbors about her woes raising a trouble child like him, and how she thought he might be autistic or have Hyperactive Attention Deficit Disorder or maybe he was just a crack baby since his whore of a mother had probably been drinking and doing drugs while he was in the womb.

Harry didn't know what a womb was, or what autistic meant, or a lot of what his aunt said really, but he figured it wasn't anything nice.

However, Petunia had left to use the public toilet – "Nasty, dirty thing, but I'll not be walking home in this heat only to walk back" – and told Harry to bring Dudley the sack lunch she had packed for him. Harry had helped, but Petunia had done anything that involved the stove since Harry still couldn't see over the counter. Harry had a sack lunch too, but his only had a sandwich and a banana in it while Dudley was given two sandwiches, a bag of crisps, some cookies, string cheese, and a Mars Bar.

Thus leading to the current situation. Harry had tried to give his cousin the back, but Dudley had a tantrum and knocked him over. All of his food was now scattered on the bark chips surrounding the play area, Harry's head hurt from being pushed into the play structure, and he was going to be in big trouble when his aunt returned from the loo.

"You stupid, you-" Dudley let out an angry yell, and even though Harry could see some other kid's parents coming, they couldn't stop Dudley from kicking Harry in the stomach. The small child, who really didn't look like he could be five and seemed more a street child with his baggy clothes and overall grungy appearance, released a cry of pain but managed to bite back the bile that threatened to rise in retaliation of the blow.

This was normal. He just had to keep quiet and apologize and eventually his aunt would placate Dudley with some promise to go out for ice cream, and Harry would get swatted on the back of his head when they were out of the public, but that was fine. He probably wouldn't get to eat his lunch or dinner either, but considering it was his birthday Harry expected no less.

"Hey kid, get off of -" Harry's hearing of some adult's comment was cut off as he was kicked hard enough for his head to smack against the metal play structure again. It hurt, but he kept his whimper as quiet as possible.

About when he was expecting either another kick or for an adult to start pulling Dudley away, there was a dull "thwack" from somewhere in front of Harry, and he only just dared to open his eyes.

What he saw was truly an illusion, there was no other explanation.

A tall man - a _very_ tall man, almost two meters Harry was sure - was standing over Harry in a very nonchalant stance. All Harry could make out aside from the man's height was that he had spiky hair. The man was facing Harry, but because of the sun over his head and Harry's own degenerating eyesight (Uncle Vernon said he wouldn't get Harry glasses unless it posed a problem at school come fall) his features were obscured.

Behind the man, Harry could see his cousin, and as another dull "thwack" sounded, and Harry realized that his cousin was kicking the man, and he didn't so much as twitch in response! Even Uncle Vernon would wince if Dudley hit him, but this man seemed impervious to the vicious attacks.

Another adult, a large woman (compared to Aunt Petunia, but not Aunt Marge) arrived and pulled Dudley away, already taking him to the lady's washroom where Petunia was still "powdering her nose" whatever that meant. With Dudley gone, the man took a step back from Harry, and the child tried to push himself into a sitting position, ignoring the way that the world swayed and the bark chips made the scraps on his hands hurt worse.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and the man opened his mouth, but another voice than the man's broke through beforehand.

"Sir, are you okay? I saw that kid hitting you -"

The man turned his head to the side, and now Harry could get a better gauge of the shape of his face. High cheek bones, a long nose, a soft face... he was a handsome man, but also very pretty in a manly way. Uncle Vernon probably would have called the man a poof were they to meet and if the man weren't so intimidating-looking.

"I'm fine."

His voice was low and smooth, bearing with it a slight rumble. Harry decided he liked that voice more than the simpering falsetto of his aunt or the deep gravelly tone of his uncle. It sounded friendly, not dangerous.

Harry Potter had never been taught that he should keep away from strangers, and so was not the least bit wary of this man, because he had taken hits from Dudley for Harry and didn't mind even though another adult was concerned about it. Even if he had known to keep away from strangers, Harry would have liked this man.

Harry couldn't see the other adult, but apparently the other adult hadn't seen him either, because when he tried to broach the subject with the tall man, the smooth, low response was, "He hurt this child for more than he could ever harm me." And then another face came into Harry's view, though he could make out no features other than a surprised and vaguely horrified expression.

"Oh! Do I need to call an ambulance? Only he doesn't look too good and -"

"I have a first aid kit, but thank you," the tall man interrupted. Before Harry had even realized the tall man had moved, two arms were wrapped around him and had lifted him from the bark chips, holding him in just the right way so as not to aggravate any of the bruises or scrapes on him.

However, Harry was paying more attention to the man's face. Now that the sun fell on it, Harry could only reaffirm his thought of "handsome and beautiful". He looked like one of the models in one of Aunt Petunia's magazines, with his steely gray eyes, tan skin, and tall stature. Without realizing it, this became Harry's image of a defender - strong, compassionate and self-sacrificing - although the exact appearance of that image would fade over time.

Harry was settled on a bench where a backpack lay in wait. The man opened the smallest pouch and produced a small jar like what lip balm came in. The child watched curiously as the man spread it on the bruises that were yet to form. He had to lift his shirt - the man made a movement that Harry didn't understand before looking confused and asking that the shirt be lifted - so that he stomach could be tended to.

It was as the man was inspecting the back of Harry's head where it had impacted on the play structure that Petunia returned from the lavatory, looking flustered with Dudley being dragged behind her. Her eyes landed on Harry, and for a moment he thought she was going to just walk away and leave him at the park (not a first, certainly) before her eyes fell on the man who was helping Harry. She instantly changed direction with a strange look in her eye and walked with a purpose toward the bench.

"Oh dear, I've told you not to pick fights." The child in question jolted at the sugary-sweet tone of his aunt. That almost made it sound like she didn't think he deserved it or something. "I'm sorry he was a trouble to you, Mr...?"

"Mori," he said swiftly. "Mr Mori."

Somehow, Harry knew he was both lying and telling the truth. Maybe that was part of his name?

"Well, thank you for taking care of my nephew Mr Mori," Petunia went on, completely oblivious to the disgusted look that she was on the receiving end of. Harry couldn't help but wonder why Mori - if that was his name - was looking at his aunt like that, but said nothing. "He's always getting in trouble, and I was quite concerned when I was told that he picked a fight -"

"If your son were not so violent, I doubt Harry would be injured," said Mori, and Harry realized how he knew that look and that tone; it was the same expression his uncle wore while looking at _him_.

What he didn't realize was that, up to this point, no one had said his name aloud, and therefore Mori shouldn't know it.

"V-violent? My Dinky Diddy-dums?" Petunia stammered, as if the idea was foreign. Well, it must have been. Harry didn't know what "violent" meant, but it obviously didn't mean anything nice about Dudley. "He wouldn't hurt a fly!"

"So he didn't; he hurt a child."

"The boy is always provoking my Dudders," Petunia snapped back with surprising anger. "It's not -"

"Mummy!" Dudley didn't like to not be the center of attention. "He got my lunch everywhere!"

"Oh Duddykins, we'll go out for lunch and I'll buy you whatever you want to eat," Petunia simpered over the child.

"Would one hundred pounds be enough?" Mori's voice broke through. One hundred pounds... even Harry knew that was a ridiculous amount of money to spend on lunch. Of course, Harry had never so much as held a single pound note himself, but he always heard his uncle complain about how the power bill went up three pounds or how Harry cost them at least an additional five pounds a day for food, and a hundred was a big number.

"E-excuse me?" Petunia's jaw was dropped. Apparently one hundred was a really big number.

"I said, would one hundred pounds be enough compensation for the lunch that Harry supposedly scattered?" Harry couldn't see Mori's face anymore, because he was turned fully to Harry's aunt, but the imagination was a wondrous thing. Mr Mori looked like a real savior in Harry's mind, though in reality he mostly looked intimidating.

"I- Yes, of course!"

"Good." Mori's hand slipped into his back pocket and pulled out a slim wallet. A single note was pulled out with a big "100" on it, which Petunia snatched up quickly. "If you'll excuse me, I need to finish making sure that Harry-kun is okay."

While Harry was still wondering what "kun" meant (was he being called a raccoon?), Petunia was already fleeing the park with Dudley in tow. It seemed like it was a "leave Harry somewhere and make him find his own way back" kind of day.

"You got ripped off," the child stated after a moment.

"No I didn't," Mori countered, as if that made him right. Harry pouted. The man was _not_ right. A hundred was a really big number; even though Harry could count that high, Dudley couldn't, and it still took a long time to get that high, so it had to be a lot of money. More than enough to buy all the food that had been in Dudley's lunch - which was still scattered in the bark chips.

"Yeah huh! A hundred is a big number," Harry pouted extra hard to prove his point. His aunt usually hit him if he pouted, but he had learned that strangers thought it was cute.

Mori was no different and smiled a little, "Not to me. A hundred is pocket change."

Harry's eyes widened. Pocket change? Even for Dudley, pocket money didn't go past five pounds, and Dudley always got whatever he wanted. Was this man rich? Maybe he was so rich that he had twenty mansions and ten elephants and owned his own beach!

It wasn't until Mori said, "I do" that Harry realized he said it out loud.

It took about five seconds to process it before Harry's eyes bugged out. "Really? Even the elephants?! But they're huge and their food must cost a lot! I've only seen them in a picture book at Mrs Figg's house, but aren't they really really big?"

The smile grew. "Even the elephants."

All Harry could say to that was, "Wow."

* * *

Even as the memories grew fuzzy over the years, Harry would recall his fifth birthday in an abstract way and know it was the best birthday of his life before Hogwarts, and even for some years into his career as a student of magic. Mori - who, the first time Harry called him "Mr Mori" out loud, told him that "Takashi-nii" was better - took Harry to a restaurant for lunch. He'd never been to one before and didn't know what to order, but Takashi ordered him chicken pasta and even bought him a treacle tart for dessert, all of which swiftly became Harry's favorite foods.

After lunch, Takashi took Harry to a different park from the one where he had been with his aunt, and it was around then that Harry realized that his bruises from Dudley never even got to turn purple, and that he didn't hurt at all, like magic (though he would never ever say it aloud unless he wanted to get hit). Harry was encouraged to play with other children, and he met a girl his age there with poofy brown hair and no front teeth.

All the while, Takashi watched from a bench. He had a book in his lap, but whenever Harry looked over at the nice man, he was always looking straight back. Something about that made the child very happy; later he would think it was because the man cared.

If the day had never ended, Harry would have been happy. He spent a good hour just sitting next to Takashi. The man talked to him a lot, though he seemed uncomfortable with it, like he usually didn't talk much. Harry tried to talk too, but he didn't know what to say and was always mispronouncing things, so he kept quiet mostly.

Unfortunately, as all good things must, Harry's time with Takashi ended at five o'clock. Takashi boarded a train with him and took Harry back to Little Whinging without being told where to go, and all the way up to the front door of Number 4, Privet Drive.

Uncle Vernon pulled into the drive just as Takashi was raising his hand to knock on the door, which stopped him mid-action.

Harry was pulled inside by his aunt before his uncle noticed Takashi at the door, and Vernon didn't enter the house for a good ten minutes, looking a bit pale and green when he did so. Takashi followed him in long enough to say good-bye to Harry and apologize for not being able to give him a birthday gift before getting into a stretch limousine that had parked in front of the house and leaving.

The child wanted to run after the car, but he didn't. Even having such a great experience once made him realize that maybe what he was going through wasn't normal, and heknew his world had been changed by two words that had been given to him.

"Have hope."

* * *

"How'd it go?" Takashi slammed the car door shut and moved to buckle in.

"Traumatizing," he replied succinctly to his fiancee.

"I wasn't that bad," Harry pouted, lower lip sticking out in a way that they both knew would make Takashi kiss the expression away. The car was already a block down for the mini-snog was over. "So, what was traumatizing?"

"Your aunt hit on me -" Harry gagged on his own spit, horrified at the mental image, "- and you were _quiet_."

"I suppose you were pretty wordy with me back then," Harry murmured quietly as he leaned against Takashi's side. The older man made a humming sound of acknowledgement, and the younger couldn't hold back a smile. "You used up this week's quota for words to get him to open up, didn't you?"

"Try a month's," this was said in good humor, and there was a small rumble of laughter from Takashi's chest that elicited a chuckle from Harry.

"You poor thing," Harry sighed. "But now you know what's it like to hold a one-ended conversation."

Takashi raised an eyebrow that Harry couldn't possibly see from his position.

"Oh, you're responsive enough, I'm not denying that."

The eyebrow lowered, but then the other raised.

"Not like that! Geez... Keep those thoughts to yourself until _after_ dinner, will you?"

A smirk twitched into place.

"It's _my_ birthday, and what I say goes. You got the same treatment, and our vacation is ending soon, y'know."

Gray eyes rolled heavenward and Harry laughed.

"I said 'til after dinner. Doesn't mean you should give up hope."

The smirk returned, and Harry blushed.

Throughout the entire conversation, Harry hadn't looked up once. But, then, they were getting married a week their time (18 years a one week real time), so perhaps it was expected that the couple could converse so easily.

"Thanks."

Takashi raised an eyebrow again, and Harry's face was red enough to make a Weasley proud.

Because Takashi knew just what buttons to press to make Harry cancel dinner altogether.

**Author's Note: Mah, sorry about breaking up the chapters like this... in October or November I'll reorder the chapters to make more sense, okay? But for now it stays as is, interruptions and all, to allow for reviews. :) It'll make things easier on me at least (and I do so love reviews). I've got one more part that I want to write for this... semi-series I guess you could call it. I mean, it's definitely a sequel to First Crush, but... not really? In a way? Er... yeah. Anyway, Alteration Part 3 will be out... sometime in August. I dunno. I still need to think of a good occasion for it. Maybe Aunt Marge getting blown up or something.**

**Happy Birthday to Harry Potter, age 29 (19 HPatHC timeline, but that doesn't matter), and to Joanne Kathleen Rowling... but I dunno how old she is, nor do I care enough to look it up. So no fic for her ;P All the love goes to Harry!**


	6. All Hallows Fluff

Warnings: slash, fluff, spoilers for Ouran through chapter... 50 I think? And Harry Potter through book 4. Narration heavy. No longer HPatHC compatible.

Disclaimers: Harry Potter belongs to Joanne Kathleen Rowling and associates, of whom I am not one. Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hattori Bisuko and associates, of whom I am not one. Hallowe'en special.

Featuring: Confused!Takashi, Conflicted!Harry, and others :)

All Hallows Fluff

"Fifty laps," intoned Morinozuka Takashi as he led the White Team to the field for practice, as he did every day. Of course, "every day" had only begun one week prior, which wasn't near enough time to prepare. Most events for the Ouran High School Sports Festival involved running, which meant that most of the participants would be required to run. So, as Ouran was filled with spoiled rich children (not that Takashi had room to talk, as he too was a spoiled rich kid, but he wasn't _as_ spoiled and certainly not as out of shape as the rest), most of them needed serious training. There were certainly many accomplished athletes at Ouran, Takashi included, but twice as many had practically no endurance or muscle tone whatsoever.

One week and three days, Takashi knew, was not enough time to take a bunch of neophytes and make them into capable competitors. It generally took three weeks to hit stride, and that just meant that runners could, at that point, pace themselves to run a kilometer or two.

He'd started with fifty laps for the first few days to check stamina, speed, and recovery rates in each member of the team before splitting them into smaller groups based on what events they were participating in or where they needed the most work. Sprinters were set to run short spurts of the track at a time, relay racers the same, hurdlers were working on their vertical jumps and not stumbling after those jumps... but most were still on the fifty laps because that would help them the most. Maybe no help them in the competition the most, but in general.

As the near unanimous groan rang out, Takashi's gaze flicked to the one member of his team who had yet to become upset by remaining in the long-distance group despite being signed up for other events. He was one of few runners who had made it past the thirty lap mark, even fewer who made it beyond forty, and the only one of those who was not involved in a club sport at Ouran.

Potter Harry was a member of class 1-D with Kanazuki Reiko – Mitsukuni's unofficial girlfriend – and Kasanoda Ritsu – Takashi's self-proclaimed protégé and, from a few conversations Takashi had overheard, Potter's friend – and didn't stand out particularly much. The senior had seen Potter around school every so often, as with any other students, though usually with Nekozawa Umehito and the rest of the Black Magic Club. Takashi had never really thought much of the first year, just another face in the crowd. Admittedly, Potter was highly recognizable being so obviously foreign – there had been a rumor of his relation to the British Lord who, at the time, was touring the globe, though the rumors were just that – but he wasn't noteworthy. Messy black hair, green eyes, glasses, and a look about him that made Takashi think of Oliver Twist. Or Piyo-chan.

Yet despite Takashi's vague, barely-noticed thought that Potter was just another spoiled teenager (for such a thing barely required his note), it soon seemed to be the opposite. The first day of training, Potter did not complain, nor did he try to take a break, he just ran as far as he could – which was further than any except for a few of the actual athletes on the team – before admitting that he couldn't run any further and still be able to walk to the train station to get home.

The fact that Potter rode the train home only piqued Takashi's curiosity for a minute or so – who, outside of Haruhi, took public transportation home? – but he did not particularly care. He didn't need to, really. When Potter came back for days 2 and 3 of training, Takashi thought he would be utterly exhausted, but Potter managed to run just a little more each day before begging off to catch his train home.

Takashi was expecting this, day 7, to be the day Potter hit forty-five laps. But it wasn't.

The National Kendo Champion was watching his team run (he and Mitsukuni did not participate in the exercises since they had their own regimens completed at home each morning and didn't need to get in better shape for the competition) while keeping an eye on the best runners on Mitsukuni's team to find weaknesses, when a jerky movement at the opposite end of the track caught his attention.

Ten laps in, Potter stumbled. He didn't quite trip, but he moved in a strange manner before coming to a stop and then staggering, limping even, to the side of the track where he started to check his leg over.

It really was just duty and curiosity that drove Takashi to go to Potter's side. He wanted to know what was wrong and it was his duty as the trainer to help the messy-haired first year if he had been injured during the run.

Potter's reaction to Takashi's approach was immediate. The senior was still a good five meters off and in Potter's blind spot, yet the younger of them tensed quite suddenly and spun around quickly, looking _frightened_ until his eyes landed upon Takashi. Then he relaxed, blushed a little, and looked guiltily at the grass by his feet.

The movement had been completely defensive and instinctual as far as Takashi could see. A conditioned response atypical of any spoiled rich teen.

"Sorry Morinozuka-senpai," Potter belted out quickly, ruffling his own hair in an involuntary gesture of discomfort and revealing embarrassment-pinked ears. "I'll get back to running." He made to return to the track, but Takashi grabbed his shoulder; the martial artist was curious now, and a little peeved. Potter flinched violently at the sudden contact, but remained otherwise stationary.

When he had attempted to return to the track, there had been no sign of a stagger or limp in his stride.

"Faking an injury?" Takashi asked; Potter hadn't complained once in the past week, and _now_ he was going to drop out? Really? All the signs regarding the younger of the two were contradictory, and it was only how strange those contradictions were that made him curious at all. Takashi had assumed Potter to be a wallflower, but a normal spoiled rich boy none the less, not so... paranoid? That seemed right. Potter was on edge, jumpy, as if expecting to be hit any minute and didn't take kindly to sudden contact.

There were, of course, reasons for this, but none that Takashi thought up made much sense.

Potter's blush darkened under Takashi's scrutiny as he not-so-casually extricated his shoulder from the loose grasp. "I... well, it's not like running all of that is helping me in my events, right? And I don't want to get tired today, so I thought I'd just make up for it tomorrow or something," Potter defended himself.

Takashi perked an eyebrow.

"It's Hallowe'en," elucidated the first year, as if that explained anything. Was Potter just superstitious? "Stop looking at me like that; it gives me the strange urge to explain myself, and I don't want to."

Takashi blinked at the straight forward demand, effectively ending the offending "look" that Potter had been talking about. Then he was running. Why? Because Mitsukuni had just called his name, sounding distressed, pained. It was an automatic response, instinct.

By the pounding of feet behind, Takashi realized that Potter had the same reaction despite not knowing Mitsukuni.

The diminutive senior was on the ground, holding his ankle tightly, lip wibbling and large honey-colored eyes blurred with as-of-yet unshed tears. Although Takashi was the first to arrive, Potter hot on his heels (surprising, given the difference in stride length and the fact that many had observed the seeming increase in his capabilities when it came to Mitsukuni), they were far from alone in their dash for Mitsukuni. Sure, there weren't any girls on the field, as the ladies' events didn't involve running (and Haruhi, who was hopeless, was allowed to spend training time with her secret gender-mates), but Mitsukuni was still popular. His personality and the fact that girls liked him didn't exclude him from making male acquaintances and friends after all.

"Is Haninozuka-senpai alright?" Shouted one of the returning runners as they drew nearer. They probably weren't expecting an answer, and Takashi would not give them one because Mitsukuni was the most important issue. He was tender as he removed the expensive running shoe from Mitsukuni's swollen foot – it was supposed to give extra support so things like that wouldn't happen, but the product was obviously faulty – to prevent aggravation. By the swelling and coloration, it looked like –

"A sprain, low-grade," Potter's voice interrupted Takashi's thought. It was startling; most Ouran students would be freaking out to some degree, but Potter's voice was calm, clinical, like he was a doctor dictating for a nurse. "A simple twist, nothing at all major." He was fiddling with the zipper on a fanny pack that Takashi had no previously noticed and retrieved from it a phial – smaller than the ones used in chemistry classes – filled with a suspiciously violent-purple liquid.

Which he then made as if to give to Mitsukuni.

Like a snake lashing out to catch a mouse, Takashi's arm lashed out to grab Potter's wrist. As if he was going to let just anyone give Mitsukuni a mystery substance! Unless he knew for a fact that that… liquid (it was debatable, as it jiggled like a gelatin now the phial was opened) would not be detrimental to Mitsukuni's health, Takashi wasn't letting it anywhere near his cousin. Maybe if it was Haruhi, Reiko, or a member of their family (not Satoshi though, since he had no sense of taste), but not a stranger.

The scary thing was, Potter seemed to understand. "Don't worry, this is just a pain killer; I have something for the injury itself, but I thought that Haninozuka-senpai would prefer to be numbed first," the first year smiled disarmingly, the same sort of naturally charming smile that Haruhi had but with that added element of calming that a doctor would use on a patient or the family of a patient. It was almost as if he hadn't been nervous around Takashi mere moments before.

Voices drifted from behind as the runners reached them. "Oh, Potter-kun's here," one sounded relieved.

"Haninozuka-senpai will be better in no time!" Another cheered quietly.

Takashi turned slightly, curious. Kasanoda must have noticed or something, as he jogged out of the group and toward them. Or maybe that had been his intention all along; Takashi could not say.

"Morinozuka-nii-sama, you should trust Harry-kun on this one," Kasanoda defended as he stood over Takashi's crouched form, to which the ender only hmmed and tightened his grip on Potter's wrist. The teen had been about to transfer which hand held the phial while Takashi was turned away, and the kendo champion needed to send the message that he _was_ paying attention and was _not_ letting Potter feed Mitsukuni anything. "He's a very good medic; his company makes the miracle cures."

The miracle cures... Takashi had heard of them of course, and had been administered them on occasion; the Potter Company's standing jumped when Takashi was a child, which was when the medicines first hit Japan, and again when Takashi was in middle school, though the reason for that jump was questionable. And if Potter was the heir to _that_ company, why was he in 1-D rather than 1-B or even 1-A? Surely the higher echelons of the school would welcome him with open arms, provided he was sociable and nice (which he _had_ to be to have been friends with Kasanoda before the Host Club got involved back in August)

He hadn't really made the connection between Potter and the Potter Company (though he knew he should have), but not from ignorance, or at least, not _real_ ignorance. There was only one person who Takashi could associate with the miracle medicines, and even then all Takashi could remember of _that man_ was being helped a bit before he turned eight, the only time he and Mitsukuni had been prey to bullies.

Even so, Takashi could recognize the liquid Potter was still trying to give to Mitsukuni (a few boys in the crowd were actually _snickering_ as they watched Takashi foil those attempts), as Satoshi had been given it back in May after spraining his ankle. It would be followed by a turquoise liquid, if Takashi remembered correctly.

One dismissive glance to Kasanoda later sent the red-head to Potter's side instead, and Takashi fixed the brunet with a sharp gaze. "Why?" A very simple word, that, and one which should also have a very simple answer. On paper, it did. In Takashi's mind, however...

"Should you trust me?" Potter smirked a bit and relaxed his wrist slightly. "Aside from Ritsu's glowing endorsement and my company's prestige, I'm in training to be a fully fledged healer – it's like being a doctor but... more dangerous I guess? - and I am licensed to distribute Class 3 curatives, which include medicines with accelerative properties for bone growth, pain killers, and certain disease preventatives." He then moved his wrist in such a way that he escaped Takashi's grasp, but it left that wrist very open to being snapped; he had confidence that Takashi would not do so, obviously. "Here Haninozuka-senpai, take three sips of this with two second intervals, no more than half the phial and no less than a quarter of it."

... It didn't. The word healer... well, it reminded Takashi even more of the barely-remembered-man from his youth. Potter's description of being a healer was like a physical blow in a way. Takashi could barely remember that man, never mind his appearance – it had been, what, eleven years since then? Surely it was understandable – and he shouldn't feel guilty for remembering so little, but that didn't stop him.

What he could remember was that the man had been precious to him, which was why he valued his stuffed dragon so much. Not that he would ever admit to such a thing, but then again, he would never be asked about his dragon in the first place, so the point was moot.

Still, seeing the specter of that healer, the person Takashi had long since identified as his "first crush", in the first year now tending to Mitsukuni was... disconcerting to say the least. So Takashi made a resolution. He would stay away from Potter. It was probably childish, that he would do it specifically for the reason of Potter saying those words, but Takashi had the niggling feeling that Potter would remind him more of that man every time they met.

The idea of being drawn to someone because they reminded him of his first crush was also not anything he wanted to have to contemplate the morality of. It was repulsive.

"All done, Haninozuka-senpai!" Potter spouted chipperly. "Give it an hour to rest and you'll be good as new! Hey Ritsu, let's get some more running in!" He accepted a hand up from his classmate and jogged off under the noonday sun.

And that was the first time Takashi met Harry.

* * *

Coming to Ouran had been a snap decision for Harry. He really hadn't thought much about it; Voldemort was dead, Harry was hounded by fans and miffed Death Eaters alike, and Sirius offered to help him escape the unwanted attention and attacks before he lost his mind from dodging spells or became like Lockhart, drunk on his own fame. They picked Japan because there was no reason to o to Japan. Ouran, because Harry wanted to be normal, which was common knowledge, and as such no one would ever expect him to attend such an affluent and famous academy.

Sirius had stuck around in Tokyo for approximately a week, only long enough for Harry to settle in to the penthouse apartment they had purchased and deal with legalities before heading to Australia to throw off their pursuers.

Still, Harry had purposefully entered the most innocuous section of Ouran High School, class D, so as to be less likely to be noticed by the most suspicious, class A. He didn't want his face plastered across Japanese papers, even just the muggle tabloids, in case they tipped off magical Britain to his presence. Associating with the lowest echelon of Ouran society – which was still practically top tier anywhere else – would keep him safer for longer.

He had quickly found a friend in that class, Kasanoda Ritsu, who was also new to Ouran (though for entirely different reasons, as his family headed a yakuza). However, social pressures forced Ritsu to not be around Harry much after his sixteenth birthday, as he attempted to gain aid from some older students to become more likeable. He especially avoided Harry while the gay rumors were floating about, though it was Harry's secret belief that Ritsu _was_ gay, not that it mattered, given how he acted around that Fujioka boy in the Host Club. He also found a social circle in the Black Magic Club, consisting of squibs, though Kanazuki Reiko didn't like him much at first for reasons unknown.

Things were going smoothly until the Sports Festival in Harry's first year at Ouran. He was anticipating all day for something bad to happen, and then Haninozuka Mitsukuni had sprained his ankle which hardly counted as a catastrophe. But it was. Sure, a fair few people had heard of him and knew that he was from the Potter Company, but word spread like wild fire after one of the most popular boys in the school was healed by him.

_That Potter guy's a good medic! Isn't he the heir of the Potter Company? No, he's already the Head!_

And so Harry's popularity at Ouran skyrocketed to the point where some students would actually put up with Nekozawa Umehito (1) and the rest of the Black Magic Club to get to him! He earned an article in the Ouran Journalism Club's issue for the first week of November after the end of the Sports Festival, which got published in several larger papers and magazines, and by November thirteenth had found its way to Wizarding Britain. At the same time, Harry was being pulled into the Host Club. Part of it was Mitsukuni being grateful to Harry and inviting him for cake during club hours everyday. Another part was that the other Hosts were curious now too.

Mostly though, it was Harry's own impetus. It wasn't that he wanted to be friends with the most high-profile, high-drama students in the school, even though they were nice and it allowed Ritsu some quality time with his favorite host; it was because of Morinozuka Takashi. Harry had known who Takashi was of course, ever since starting at Ouran in early April. How could he not? The Host Club was... well, everyone knew who they were, and gossip regarding them was rampant. Plus, Takashi's height made him very noticeable.

But, inexplicably, seeing Takashi made Harry calm down. Like... he didn't know what. It was a little similar to how he felt around Sirius, strangely safe despite all evidence to the contrary, and yet it was nothing like that either. It was like he knew Takashi would help him, which made no sense since they had not spoken previously. And by the time they _did _talk to one another, half a year after Harry came to Ouran, even the blatant distrust did not stifle the strange feelings of safety that had decided to crop up around Takashi. Rather, they increased, though for a wholly different reason that Harry would start to acknowledge as time went by.

So, being drawn in by the Host Club was not, in fact, a bad thing, even though Harry was exceedingly wary of his inexplicable comfort around a certain tall person who was to remain unnamed. Even the purposeful avoidance of the first party by the latter could not adversely affect that, which was rather suspect.

But, really, Harry could consider being found out by the wizarding world a blessing in disguise. At the time he found out that he'd been found, Harry was just leaving a Black Magic Club meeting, and it was no secret after those articles where Harry went to school or who he tended to spend time around. So he was mobbed on the steps of the North Building (2), unable to escape the grasping hands, nor the groping ones.

He'd never done too well with crowds, and enclosed spaces made him edgy, so this could quite easily be described as a traumatizing experience for the young wizard. One particularly cold hand was trying to sneak down the back of Harry's trousers when he really started to freak out, limbs jerking in any way he could get them to in an effort to extricate himself from his "fans"; it wasn't working and there were _hands_ and _voices_ and –

And suddenly Harry had been picked up and tossed over a shoulder. Takashi's shoulder. He would later hear from Mitsukuni how they had seen Harry suddenly assaulted as they were about to head to their waiting car, and how Takashi had run over and half-pushed half-intimidated his way into the middle of the mob where Harry had been flailing. Also, Mitsukuni would continue, Takashi had _glared_ at people until they parted and allowed Takashi to carry Harry to the car (Mitsukuni had not gone into the crowd in the first place, being so small and they so frantic). All through this, of course, Harry was on the verge of a panic attack and saw little more than Takashi's back.

Takashi had carried Harry back to the Haninozuka limo that had come for the eldest Hosts, and Mitsukuni made Harry give the driver directions to his home. When he had been set on the seat, Harry downed half a phial of calming potion – just enough to get his head on straight – and done so with little argument. He then invited the two seniors up to his penthouse and gave them a muggle-friendly and highly-truncated version of what happened and why.

Sirius arrived in Tokyo that night to convince Harry it was time to move on; in the end they both stayed and the flat felt a bit less empty. The Hosts, from that point, became very protective of Harry and made a plan with the Black Magic Club and Ritsu that would keep Harry safe, making sure he was always escorted, even to the point of not allowing him to take the train home. The Hosts' "King" and "Devil" types took this as an excuse to drive Fujioka Haruhi – who, after two days with the Hosts, Harry had figured was female and that Ritsu was not, in fact, gay – home as well.

The third year Hosts took this the most seriously, though they were closely followed by Nekozawa and Ritsu. This meant that only two weeks into their very vague acquaintance, Takashi had stopped avoiding Harry, and Harry instinctual feelings of safety – now rather explicable give The Rescue – turned into camaraderie.

By graduation, Harry recognized it as a crush.

"Wow, Harry-chan! It's so spooky!" Mitsukuni crowed appreciatively from atop Takashi's shoulders as they entered the ballroom of the South Building, and Harry grinned. One year to the day since he had fatefully helped Mitsukuni, and Harry thought he might be in love with Takashi. Crushes died off, but this one had persisted for so long... despite the unrequited nature of the emotions, Harry found he didn't mind having just Takashi's friendship, even if Sirius kept telling him to "just go for it!" as he had with Haruhi's father.

"Thanks Mitsukuni-senpai, but it was all pretty basic wandwork," Harry scratched the back of his head, a bit embarrassed at the praise. It was Hallowe'en, one year since he met the elder-Hosts and six months since he had revealed to all his friends in Japan not already in the know about magic (3). The irony that such a thing occurred on Walpurgis Night (4) was not lost on him.

After a vote conducted very undemocratically (in other words, ideas were pitched and even though there was a vote, everyone just went along with Tamaki's ideas), it was decided that the Hosts would host a Hallowe'en Ball. Harry, having been appointed the Black Magic Club president after Nekozawa's graduation, was requested to help, so he did. All the decor was up to him, and while some "tricks" were blatantly magical, it would seem only as though he had paid gross quantities of money to do it and "salvage" his club's reputation after all the hell Nekozawa caused. Not that Harry thought it needed to be salvaged; the Black Magic Club did not exist to please others, as the Host Club did, but to give squibs a chance to network.

"Yeah Harry-kun," the Hitachiin twins chimed in as they sauntered over. "You did a good job!" They nodded emphatically, and Harry rolled his eyes. They were far too similar to Fred and George for comfort. And the one time both pairs of twins _had_ met... well, Harry still had nightmares and the Weasley twins weren't allowed back in Japan.

"Whatever," Harry did his best to shrug off the praise, but his pleased blush gave him away. He was still unused to being complimented on actually being good at something; in Hogwarts he was complimented on his bravery and on Quidditch, but here he was complimented for his mental capacity and finer skills.

The quiet "Aa" of agreement from Takashi didn't help either.

"Thanks guys; you're costumes aren't half bad y'know," the wizard changed the subject quickly. The Host Club had picked a theme for the ball, each member dressing as movie monsters. Haruhi was a gorgon, Kyouya was a vampire, Tamaki was Frankenstein's monster, the twins were werewolves, Mistukuni was a zombie – complete with a false-patchy-looking Usa-chan – Takashi was a traditional Oni, and the first year Host (for only one had joined that year, a "bashful" type) was a more modern demon out of a popular anime.

Harry's costume was far simpler than any of theirs; he was a wizard. Although his robes had been altered to suit the event, he still looked much as he did wearing the same robes at the Yule Ball in fourth year. Except, as he had been pleased to notice, the alterations had included adding a few inches to the bottom.

The rest of the Black Magic Club though... well, Reiko's Yuki Onna costume was the simplest of the lot, and that had taken half an hour just to get the kimono on.

"Three minutes until the doors open," Kyouya's stern tone permeated the room, despite the fact that he was speaking relatively quietly and from across the hall. "Get into position."

Harry scurried off to where his club mates were finishing their preparations. They had been booked as "entertainment" on top of decor, and everyone would be working a couple shifts at the fortune telling booth. Three could work at a time, but the had eight members this year, so Harry, as president, would be on the first and last shifts of the evening. Thick velvet curtains, heavily laced with various charms, would hide the inside of the tent and give it an intimate feel as well as keeping to the club's dark aesthetic.

Soon, the doors opened, and the Host King made a speech when his subjects were assembled. When he was done, the orchestra struck up a waltz and Harry settled in for his first shift in the booth which was unsurprisingly busy.

Harry's first break came an hour and a half later, at nine. There was some sort of contest going on, a raffle, a popularity contest. Everyone had been given a ticket upon entry and – so far as Harry could gather as he loitered in the non-dancing section of the ballroom, they were to write their favorite Host's name on the ticket and submit it. At ten-twenty, one ticket would be drawn, and the Host whose name was drawn would win. Harry wasn't sure what the Host in question would win, having been occupied with a first year's tea leaves during the announcement, but it had to be good given how excited some of the attendees were getting. There seemed to be no harm in it, and the fact that most of the other boys were practically _begging_ girls to take the tickets away from them went completely over Harry's head as he wrote "Takashi" on his ticket and submitted it.

One ticket had very little chance anyway, given the way Houshakuji Renge was running around collecting boys' tickets and submitting them with Haruhi's name on them.

Harry's second shift started only a few minutes after the drawing was due to take place, so he migrated over to the tented area to check on things while he kept one ear out for the verdict. There weren't any customers though, since none of the girls wanted to miss the drawing and none of the boys cared much about fortune telling; exercising his privileges as President, Harry excused the second shift staff from the last ten minutes of their shift and stood under the canopy to watch the proceedings.

"I hope everyone is enjoying the evening thus far," announced Kyouya from the top of the grand staircase to polite-yet-enthusiastic applause. "It is now time for the drawing. Our President will, of course, be drawing the winner." More clapping, a little more raucous now but it still wouldn't be out of place at a golf tournament. Kyouya faded into the background, as he was prone to do, and Tamaki stepped forward.

His hand reached into the box – which was really some great antique thing that shouldn't be used for something like a raffle – and a single yellow ticket was pulled along with it. Harry wasn't really interested, but since there would be no customers until this ended, he might as well wait it out.

"The winner is," a pause as Tamaki unfolded the ticket and read the name, "Mori-senpai!" Tamaki looked a little surprise, and understandably so. Takashi's was the smallest following of all the Hosts, especially now he'd graduated, which meant that the odds were stacked against him winning. The odds would have been in Tamaki's favor, since he had a seventy-percent designation rate. Polite applause seemed to snap the King out of it, and he continued. "Mori-senpai has the rest of the evening, until the end of the final dance at midnight, to find the owner of the winning ticket. And don't even think about cheating; Kyouya has the list of whose ticket was whose."

"And when the ticket's owner is found, she will give Mori-senpai his prize," Kyouya smiled deviously, but Harry was curious. Was Kyouya going to give the ticket-owner the prize to give to Takashi or – "A kiss.

One eyebrow perked as excited squeals pierced the previously silent hall. That... was a very interesting prize. Had he known, Harry would have just given his ticket to Renge and had done with it. Of course, the chance of it being _his_ ticket was extremely low anyway... but it _was_ Hallowe'en. If it _was_ his ticket, there wasn't anyone Harry could say he gave the ticket to since he didn't know any of Takashi's fangirls well enough to get away with it; they were all notoriously shy.

Well, it was too late to worry about such things anyway. Harry ventured back into the tent, waving the other two on his last shift to join him inside, and settled in to deal with the next flock of girls seeking love fortunes. He wasn't a fan of Divination by any means, it was really more Reiko's forte, but it was a crowd pleaser and wouldn't drive the frivolous, rich students away from the dark corner of the room.

At around eleven thirty, two girls came in together, giggling quietly and gossiping as they waited for Harry to finish reading one of his classmates' tea leaves. After so much experience in eavesdropping at Hogwarts, he couldn't help but listen in.

"Mori-senpai looked so conflicted," giggled the first girl, a brunette and, if Harry recalled correctly, a member of class 2-A with Haruhi.

"He's been staring at that ticket for an hour!" chimed the second, a first-year girl with bleach-brown hair. "Do you think he knows whose it is?"

"Maybe? His face is just so stony! Maybe he has to get up his courage?" Another smattering of giggles.

"But he's _Mori-senpai!_ How could he be afraid of a girl?"

"Next," Harry interrupted as though he had not been listening in to the gossip, and the conversation dropped between the girls as they requested palm readings, just as ninety percent of the girls before them had.

Twenty-five minutes later, Harry dismissed the rest of the third shift, closed the curtains that were acting as doors, and started to close up shop. No one was going to miss the final dance of the night for a palm reading after all. The wizard removed his holly wand from his pocket with a flourish; after that, it was a matter of bibbity bobbity boo to get the various materials – tea cups and pots, incense burners, crystal balls, jack-o-lanterns, candelabra and the like – into the appropriate boxes to the to the proper locations after the pack up ended.

As he was shrinking tables for easier transport, he heard the curtain pull open behind him. The magic stopped immediately, leaving Harry with a child-sized oak table as he whipped around, mad at himself for not casting any sort of locking spell on the curtains. He was halfway through the incantation for a stunning spell before catching the identity of his visitor. That did not stop the spell firing, but Takashi had already knocked Harry's wrist aside, allowing the charm to strike the curtains and be dissipated by the neutralizing charms.

And, despite his curiosity as to why Takashi had come to visit, Harry relaxed.

"Hey Takashi-senpai," Harry greeted, blushing a bit in embarrassment for his hair trigger reaction but refraining from any gestures of discomfort. "Sorry, it's still a reflex y'know?" Being hounded by Death Eaters before coming to Japan had done a number on Harry's reactions, transforming them to a complete "strike first, question later" reflex. In the end, it was easier to apologize than be cruciated.

Takashi hummed a noncommittal reply and entered more fully into the tent so that the curtain could close behind him. Though the tent had previously seemed rather spacious, Harry was feeling a little claustrophobic. Takashi was only one step away from him, if that, and the half-shrunken oak table was less than half a foot behind Harry's calf, he suddenly felt a lot less comfortable.

Damned hormones.

"So, did you find your winner yet? Or are you not actually trying?" Harry turned to face the table to complete its shrinking in hopes of feeling less awkward. And he did feel a bit more comfortable, though he could feel Takashi's gaze on him. Or thought it he could. His sixth sense had always been a bit shaky.

"Aa," the affirmative was, Harry knew, for the first question. Takashi _had_ found his winning ticket girl. "No kiss yet though."

Harry blinked and looked over his shoulder at the university student. "No? But you've only got about three minutes left. Why not? Well, I suppose if you don't want to kiss her, especially if she's a first year student, Merlin forbid! That'd be understandable," Harry mused aloud. Takashi had a sort of asexual vibe, or Harry had always though Takashi was too well controlled to think about that stuff until he was out of university. But he wasn't the type of person to avoid a duty, even if it was just one associated with the Host Club.

"Other way around," Takashi corrected Harry. It only took a moment for Harry to decide that Takashi didn't mean that the girl was older, but rather that _she_ wouldn't want to kiss _him_.

"That makes no sense," Harry waved off the alumnus. "She entered her ticket, didn't she? She was well aware, I'm sure, what would happen if her ticket won; why enter if she didn't want to give you a kiss?" He returned to his work, internally rolling his eyes. Honestly, who _wouldn't_ want to kiss Takashi? Harry was careful not to say this aloud of course, because even though his sexual orientation was well known around the school, saying awkward things was not high on his to-do list.

Outside, the waltz was winding down, and Harry turned toward where Takashi was still standing a little exasperated.

"Senpai, it's almost midnight," Harry admonished. "Shouldn't you be off getting you k-"

The sentence cut off abruptly, as Takashi leaned forward and Harry's mouth found an entirely new use for itself.

* * *

The tip was always the first bit he ate. The little white triangle was savored, then the large orange chunk in the middle, and finally the yellow base. Takashi still didn't see much use in the commoner sweets, they tasted like pure sugar and the taste didn't dissipate half as quickly as he felt it ought to. But Harry loved them, and so Takashi made sure that, dutiful husband that he was, they always had them this time of year.

There was a film on the television, but neither of them were really watching it. They had been married for two months now, and while the difference between married life and lovers-living-together wasn't really noticeable, they both still appreciated it.

Takashi glanced to the side and saw that Harry had a half-eaten candy-corn between his thumb and forefinger, the white bit missing but the rest perfectly intact.

The older of the two raised an eyebrow and moved his arm – which was around the younger's shoulder's – just enough to jar Harry out of his pensive mood. He looked at Takashi and smiled, understanding the unspoken language quite well after so long together.

"I'm fine, just reminiscing," Harry grinned. "About our pre-emptive honeymoon and Hallow's Eve past, present, and future."

He popped the rest of the candy corn in his mouth, not bothering with method for once. That irked Takashi a little bit, so he leaned forward, and when he had returned to his properly seated position, the yellow end of the candy corn was in his mouth, waiting for Harry to finish off the orange part.

**Author's Note: Happy Hallowe'en! Hope you enjoyed the fluff :3 I was going to post an HP/DBZ xover on November First, as a b-day gift to Marauder Heir, but I haven't even started it yet and I'm busy all day, so... yeah. Sorry it'll be late! Hopefully this'll tide her over ^^"**

(1) Why a foot note? 'Cause I'm Nekozawa for Hallowe'en! I don't have any pictures (yet), but I did post my Beelzenef on DeviantArt if you wanna look (I didn't do too well on the sewing-him-together bit, but the embroidery turned out rather nice, I think)

(2) The Black Magic Club room is in the basement of the North Building (the Host Club is in the South Building).

(3)Under circumstances too complex to be divulged in simple narrative but may, at some point, merit its own one-shot.

(4) Walpurgis Night is, basically, the opposite of Hallowe'en. Magic as at its weakest on this night, the thirtieth of April. If you want more information, look it up. I'm kinda busy trying to get this typed up before midnight (didn't work)


	7. A Slight Alteration Part 1

Warnings: Pre-slash (sorry, but it was so long already, so this is "pre-Mori/Harry" see AN for explanation), very AU (in all 'verses), spoilers for Harry Potter books and Ouran manga, mentioned character death

Disclaimers: Harry Potter belongs to JKR and associates, of which I am not one. Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Bisuko Hatori and associates, of which I am not one. I do not own the characters or settings in this story (but the situation is made-up by me). Set as an AU of HPatHC (it'll make sense as you read more).

Featuring: Loved!Harry, SlightlyLessEvil!Kyouya, Hyperactive!Tamaki (like that's a change), Alive!Lily, and others

A Slight Alteration Part 1

Harry Potter was an ordinary five year old boy, if one discounted several facts. First, one would have to ignore that he was a wizard, and then that he was raised only by his mother, a muggleborn woman named Lily, because his father had died when he was a baby. Not that Harry didn't have any adult male influence in his life; his godfather, Sirius Black, and his "uncle", Remus Lupin, saw him frequently enough that one could almost say that they lived in the house that Lily and Harry owned.

After these facts, one would be required to ignore Lily Potter herself, who was currently the President of the Potter Conglomerate. She was in charge of each division of the Company, from the publishing division to the toy manufacturing and even the new Pranks and Candies section, which had only been running for ten years, a short time when one takes into account the Conglomerate started out in the early nineteenth century. However, Lily's true job was as the Head of Potter Medical, a part of the company she had founded eight years ago in hopes of spreading magical remedies to the muggle world.

Given how busy his mother was, one would think Harry might be neglected, but this was not the case. Despite his mother's lofty position and the gross amounts of money they had at their disposal, Harry spent most of his time with his mother, or else with his tutors, Remus and Sirius.

However, beyond all of these oddities that made Harry Potter very much not an ordinary five year old boy, there was on last thing that set him apart from his peers. On his brow, one centimeter left of center, was a curse scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. He had had it as long as he could remember, and he was famous for it.

Really, this story begins on Halloween in 1991 (1), but that isn't the sort of thing one would wish to read, so in fewer words than might be said otherwise, Harry defeated a Dark Lord. On his second ever Halloween, the Potters were attacked by Lord Voldemort, who killed James Potter, stunned Lily Potter, and then tried to kill Harry with the Killing Curse. Obviously, that didn't work out too well, as an ancient spell placed on all Potters at birth stopped the spell.

The Spell of Love was actually a charm invented by Amalia Potter in 1416, after the death of her fifth child. It was found that Potters were danger magnets, which tended to shorten their life spans to less than ten years. Amalia wished to continue her husband's family line and so invented a spell that would protect all Potters from death until the age of seventeen, which was tied to the Cloak of Invisibility that had been passed through the family since they were still Peverells. The younger the child, the more potent the protection. Unfortunately, it also meant that all Potter wizards had the same lifespan as a muggle, so instead of living to be almost 200, Potter children were lucky to just reach their first century.

And so the previously unblockable Killing Curse was rebounded upon Voldemort.

When Lily Potter awoke, the house was crumbling and Harry was screaming, so she went to Dumbledore to report Peter's betrayal. She ran into both Sirius and Hagrid on the way, and had them join her in the journey to Hogwarts; Peter was caught two days later in an attempted raid on the Longbottoms' manor.

Since then, Harry had been famous, and Lily never remarried, though there had been many offers. There are many tales that could be told about those years – explaining to Harry why he didn't have a daddy, the attempted kidnapping when he was three, and Lily Potter publicly denouncing Severus Snape for being a stalker are only a few of the more interesting stories – but they have little bearing upon this particular tale.

So, as stated nine paragraphs ago, Harry Potter was a five year old boy. He wasn't ordinary, but he was just a boy as far as he cared; he had a loving family, as many toys as he wanted (though he was careful about what he wanted as he had to pick up after himself), and he was happy.

"Ootori-san, it's a pleasure to meet you," Lily Potter held out her hand to the President of Ootori Medical. Harry stood a bit behind his mother, hiding from the tall, glasses-wearing man. Harry had seen photos of his dad wearing glasses too, and wished he needed glasses, but his healer said he wouldn't for a few more years.

"And you, Potter-san," the man said. He bowed to kiss Lily's hand, but Harry knew that was a dumb move; he probably wasn't "putting moves" on Harry's mum, as Sirius put it, but she didn't like being treated like that. "I see you brought your son with you. My youngest is in pediatrics right now getting a check-up; I'm sure they would get along while we conduct business."

And just like that, Harry was led away. He usually didn't go to meetings anyway, especially not the ones with hospitals since his mother didn't want him getting sick, but Sirius wasn't allowed in Japan anymore for... various reasons, and the full moon was the night before, so Remus couldn't watch him. Today's meeting had been squished in before a few others, as the Ootori head had heard that the Potters would be in country and it was a good opportunity for his hospitals to start using Potter medicines.

Harry was very proud of him mum, so he didn't mind that she sent him away. And he was going to meet another kid, presumably his own age, so it was extra okay. His only playmate in Britain was Neville Longbottom; Harry was looking forward to making a new friend.

The kind nurse dropped him off in the pediatrics lounge, where a bunch of kids were playing with toys or reading books. Parents lined the walls of the lounge, reading magazines, and a few teenagers were... doing whatever it was teenagers did. Harry didn't think about teenagers much, since his mum told him that he could wait to think about teenager-things until he was a teenager himself. He wanted to play with the other children, but the muggle toys here weren't even the fun kind, like video games, just the boring stuffed animals and wooden train set kinds.

Even though he really wanted to play with the other children, he didn't. Harry sat patiently in a chair, kicking his feet back and forth. What was Mr Ootori's child like? Was it a boy or a girl? He hadn't said, but Harry hoped it was a boy; Neville said girls were icky, but Harry would know since he'd never met a girl his age. His mum used to be a girl, but mums were different from girls because they were grown-ups, so they weren't icky.

"Ootori-kun, your father is in a meeting right now," Harry perked up slightly at the name. "The person he is meeting with sent her son down to play with you during the meeting." Harry slid out of his seat and followed the voice around the back of the low wall. A lady was sitting behind the desk, and a boy around Harry's age with neat black hair and glasses stood in front of the desk.

"Where is he?" The Ootori boy was still facing the lady at the desk, and he couldn't tell Harry was sneaking up on him.

"Here!" Harry had learned the art of being quiet and loud at the same time. It was difficult to learn, because sometimes he would be playing with Sirius while his mum was on the phone in the next room, but Harry figured it out before Remus started tutoring him. "I'm Potter Harry. It's nice to meet you!" He bowed the way his mother had taught him he should while they were in Japan. A translation spell had been applied, but Harry liked how Japanese sounded, so he wanted to learn it properly at some point.

The Ootori boy turned around and stared at Harry for a moment. He was a bit taller than Harry, probably a bit older, and he looked very serious. His eyes were gray, which seemed a rather bland color for eyes to be, but Harry was used to far weirder colors and gray wasn't uncommon anyway.

"Ootori Kyouya," the taller boy said after a moment. "It's nice to meet you as well, Potter-kun. Otou-sama said he was meeting with the President of a medical supply company. I did not expect to be meeting anyone."

Harry smiled, "Kaa-chan –" that was what came out whenever he tried to say "mum", "came to Japan for other meetings, but since the medicine company is her favorite one, she was really happy to be doing work for that today, even though she had to push back her meeting with the Morinozuka family. And I wasn't expecting to meet anyone either, so we both get to be surprised."

"Indeed," the bespectacled boy said after a moment. "What do you want to do?"

This was a good question, since Harry rarely had a play date that wasn't planned out. With Neville, they were always flying on kiddy brooms or going to the zoo, but he couldn't do those things with a muggle boy.

"How about you give me a tour? I've never been to a hospital except for a check-up, so I wanna see what it looks like!" Harry gave his best "you know you want to obey me" smile to the other boy, and succeeded. Soon he was being shown around the hospital by the other child. Kyouya told him what each wing was and seemed familiar with many of the doctors; he didn't seem disturbed by showing Harry through the ER – none of the doctors tried to stop them either, when they saw Kyouya – nor when he took Harry to the terminal ward.

Harry wasn't disturbed either, because he knew that people died and bad things happened, until they reached room J204. There was a _girl_ sitting outside the room. Harry didn't want to catch "cooties" from her (it sounded like a horrible disease, and Neville told him there was no cure, not even one his mum could make for him), but she was curled up with her arms wrapped around her legs, and she was crying into her knees. She had long, straight brown hair, and when she looked up at Harry and Kyouya, the sounds of their footsteps undoubtedly being what drew her attention, Harry decided that there was no difference between a sad boy and a sad girl.

He jogged the last few steps to her, passing Kyouya without issue. "What's wrong?" Asking her if she was okay was stupid. People who were okay didn't cry like that. Even when people cried because they were happy, they didn't have their face screwed up like that.

"Kaa-san is gonna die," she said quietly, her voice high and raw from crying.

Harry didn't say anything to the girl, but instead ran. He just left her there, but it was because he had to; his mum could cure _anything_ (except cooties), and he didn't want that little girl to only have one parent like him. And if she was already like him, then... Harry sprinted back to where he knew his mother was meeting with Mr Ootori as fast as he could – which was pretty fast – and was breathless when he slammed open the door.

Several doctors and secretaries had tried to stop him along the way, but Harry had learned from the best how to dodge such attempts.

"Kaa-chan! There's this girl and her Kaa-chan is gonna die and will you please help?" Harry didn't care that he would get in trouble for interrupting the meeting and stood bouncing next to his mother's chair. Lily set down the cup of tea in her hand.

"I'm sorry Ootori-san, I'll be back in a few minutes, alright?" She smiled at the stunned man and left with Harry tugging on her hand. The child was pleased and led his mother using the exact route he had taken. When they arrived, Kyouya was gone, and the girl was crying harder than before.

And Harry stood by and watched his mum work. First she talked to the girl – Fujioka Haruhi – and found out what was wrong. Then she calmed the girl down and entered the hospital room. Harry followed after her and saw three people inside. One was a pretty man who looked very sad, then there was a lady-doctor with dark hair and eyes. The third person was a very pretty lady in the hospital bed, but she looked pale and sick.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," the doctor addressed Harry's mum. "You can't come in here. This is a private hospital room. Only the family and doctors are allowed in."

"That's fine," Lily nodded, red hair bobbing with the motion. "I'm a healer. Fujioka-san –" she was addressing the lady in the bed now, "I'm here to help. These medicines should clear everything up over the next two days."

Lily opened her purse and pulled out two phials of pearly purple and opaque red potion. Harry knew that his mum kept a lot of potions in her bag; since she was a licensed healer, she could distribute all of the medical potions whenever and wherever needed. Harry had a bag to carry things in too, but since he wasn't a healer he could only carry really basic things like bruise-balm.

"Just who do you think you are? Her case is terminal; why are you giving them false hope?!" The doctor lady wasn't very happy with Harry's mum, but Harry knew it would be okay when the doctor's boss, the man who his mum had been meeting with, entered.

"The Potter Company doesn't deal in false hope, Kano-sensei," Mr Ootori said as he entered the room. Kyouya was trotting at his heels, giving Harry a strange look as they entered the room which was getting rather crowded at this point. "Although, Potter-san, I wonder about what miracle medicine your company has concocted this time. Nothing his leaked to the press, and yet you claim you have a cure for Takahara's Disease?" (2)

"Acatalasemia's cure isn't on the market yet," Lily was only paying cursory attention as she scrawled instructions for the use of the potion. Harry smiled at his mother; she was always so on top of things. "The rights to sell it are... slow in coming. But if I personally treat Fujioka-san, then there are no legal issues. Anyway, it's not so much a cure as a suppressant. The purple blocks the ill effects of the bad gene and the red will treat the infection. So long as the purple medicine is administered every few months, there shouldn't be any resurgence."

"You hear that Kotoko? You're going to be okay!" The pretty man was jumping in place. "I'm going to tell Haruhi!" He sounded very happy, and Harry made sure he was out of the way when the man started to move. Haruhi was already through the door before he got there though.

Eventually, Lily went back to her meeting, and Harry continued his tour with Kyouya. The other boy – who, it turned out, was six years old – gave Harry an approving smile.

From that day on, Ootori Kyouya, youngest child of the Ootori Group President and least likely to succeed his father became penpals with Harry James Potter, the only child of the Potter Company President and Boy-Who-Lived.

* * *

At the age of nine, Harry went on vacation to France with Remus and Sirius. He had been studying French diligently for the past two years, and his honorary uncles thought it would be a great way for them to check how proficient he was. His speaking club always raved about how good he was, and how spot on his accents were, but actually going to the country was the best test.

Having just recently come back from a trip to Japan, Lily had been plenty willing to allow Harry's father-ish figures some alone time with him, on the condition that Sirius didn't get himself banned from another country. Japan was considering lifting their ban, but if word got around that Lord Black got himself banned from another country, others might decide to follow the trend. Being so openly associated with the Potters as he was, Lily didn't want to have to deal with any of his bad image rubbing off on her.

Harry could understand. If his godfather's actions made it so _he_ couldn't visit Japan or any country where he had made friends, there would be no mercy for the man.

France, Harry found, was a very beautiful place with a _lot_ of restaurants. He didn't mind that at all, since neither Sirius nor Remus were very good cooks. He had started taking lessons on how to cook recently; he didn't want to rely on house elves all the time. But his skill wasn't at a level where he wanted anyone to actually eat what he made.

On the third in day in France, Sirius took Harry to a park while Remus visited a museum. After giving his brand new glasses to Sirius for safekeeping, Harry joined in a game of football with some of the French children; his mother said he inherited his father's natural athleticism, though it was geared more toward running around than sports.

The game didn't last long, unfortunately. The other children had been there with an after school daycare, and so Harry was left alone with his godfather when five thirty rolled around. Or, that was what he thought, until he saw a boy with blond hair sitting on the swings. Ever curious, the young wizard-to-be told his godfather what he was going to do and ran off to where the boy on the swings was.

He didn't look much older than Harry, no more than a year's difference, and he had vibrant purple eyes. Harry could tell he wasn't entirely Caucasian – he had a definite Asian look, though Harry couldn't say what country – and judging by the quality of his clothes, he was rich.

And yet he didn't have a minder, which most rich children Harry had met had. Harry didn't have minders, but he did have Sirius and Remus, who sort of counted in that category.

"Hello, I'm Harry Potter," he stood at the edge of the swingset, watching the blond boy fly up in the air and then plummet back down. "What's your name?"

A cloud of dust was created as the other boy stopped. "I'm René," René stood up from the swing and held out his hand to Harry. "It's nice to meet you. Do you live near here, too?"

"No, I'm from the UK," it wasn't the first time Harry had been asked that. Because of his speaking club, he had a very good accent. Lily was a strong advocate of having Harry learn as many languages as he could while his mind was most susceptible to it, and Harry liked languages anyway, so he always tried his hardest, even though it meant his skills in math and some magical theory were lacking.

"But you're better at speaking French than Chichi!" Harry jolted as René said "Chichi". It was Japanese for "my father," (3) which solved the question of the other boy's lineage. "He can't speak it at all."

"You're Japanese?" Harry wasn't entirely surprised, but... well, the boy sounded French.

"Half," René shook his head, but there was a strange glint in his eye that Harry couldn't decide if it was happy or sad. "Chichi is Japanese, and mother is French. But since Chichi lives in Japan he only knows a little bit of French, so mother and I know Japanese! It's always fun when he comes to visit; he tells mother and I all about Japan! Did you know there are ninjas there what can leap forty feet in the air and breathe fire?" The glint turned out to be fanatic.

"Really?" It wasn't true, but somehow, Harry didn't want to disillusion the other boy. "I haven't seen any, and I've been there three times... maybe there aren't any ninjas in Tokyo." Even though he knew there weren't _any_ ninjas, he wasn't going to say otherwise. "Have you ever been to Japan?"

"I'm not allowed. Mother is sick, so we don't go. Sometimes I want to go back with Chichi, but he said that Obaa-sama won't allow it." The sad look on René's face made Harry wonder, but he wasn't going to pry. "Hey! Is that your father over there?"

"No," Harry knew without asking that René was pointing at Sirius. "He's my godfather. I don't have a dad anymore." René looked horrorstruck, and Harry moved to keep him from flipping out. His mum always said he was mature for his age, when he wanted to be. "My mum is really great though! She takes care of me and the Company and she even stops Sirius from blowing stuff up when he gets bored! So even without a dad I'm fine."

"But... even though I don't see Chichi often, at least I have one..." René shuffled his feet. Suddenly, his head jerked up. "I know! On my name as René Tamaki Richard Grantainne, from now on, I'll be your dad!"

And that was how Harry gained his second important penpal.

* * *

When Harry Potter started at Hogwarts, he got the first true taste of his fame. But he endured and ignored, and tried to keep as much to himself as possible; his House mates were loyal and helped him with this, showing that their yellow was not for cowardice, but for a hive-like family of bees, always aware. Neville was always there to cheer him on, even though he was in Gryffindor, and he made friends with Hermione Granger, a very smart muggleborn Ravenclaw girl, as well. There were trials each year, but Harry managed to get through with only the least ill effects.

Every few weeks he would receive a letter from each of his penpals. In fourth year, he was amused to note that René and Kyouya were friends with one another, but neither knew about the other knowing Harry. René's idea to start a "host club" didn't make much sense to him, but he sent an encouraging letter (and a commiserating one to Kyouya). Sometimes he dropped little hints regarding this to each of his friends, but he didn't think even Kyouya had more than suspicions.

Ever since June of Harry's fifth year, when Voldemort had given up on getting Harry to do it for him and infiltrated the Ministry personally to steal the Prophecy, there hadn't been many Death Eater attacks. Dumbledore said it was because Voldemort was trying to find out Harry's "power" – the old man was shooting some crap about love – and that, for the moment, attacks should be few and far between. The Headmaster had revealed his theory regarding Voldemort's horcruxes, including why his arm was shriveled up.

He also revealed that he would be dead by the time Harry was of age, as the seal on the curse was slowly giving way. It wouldn't be long before things came to a head, and the Boy-Who-Lived would be on his own. He knew Neville and Hermione and perhaps even Luna – a good friend, but not part of the "Interhouse Trio" that was famous in the school – would insist on coming.

The Christmas of his sixth year at Hogwarts was Harry's first time leaving the UK since a trip to America that celebrated his acceptance to the school in the first place. Dumbledore was going to continue research and encouraged Harry to go out and have some fun. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he was glad for the escape, even if it was only for three weeks.

To get his mind off of things, he picked Tokyo.

Having never been in winter, Harry was a bit surprised by how chilly it was, but not overly so. The ban on Sirius entering the country had been lifted on a probationary basis (if he stepped so much as one toe out of line, however, there was going to be hell to pay), so Harry had a regular companion for exploring the city. It was too close to the full moon for Remus to come, and Lily was rather preoccupied with business most of the time, even Christmas.

"Harry! This way!" Sirius had a big grin on his face as he dragged the teenager behind him. Harry would never begrudge this sort of thing; even after seeing his first boyfriend, Cedric Diggory, murdered the year before last, the fact that his family was so concerned as to try and cheer him up brought a warm sensation.

They had just exited the subway in Shinjuku, and Sirius was intent on seeing anything and everything he could. Harry didn't have to be dragged, but Sirius was as excited as a little kid, and it wasn't disruptive.

Until Harry bumped into someone and fell down, that is.

"Ah, sorry! I couldn't see where I was going," Harry hurriedly got to his feet and helped the other person up. He caught the slightest glimpse of the other person's face before his own split into a grin and he pounced on the not-yet-upright figure. "Kyouya!"

"Eh? Harry?" Being tackled before he was fully standing had almost caused him to fall down, but Kyouya seemed to have experience in these things by now. Harry suspected that René had something to do with this. The blond was rather touchy-feely after all. "What are you doing here?"

"Vacation," Harry replied with a grin before extricating himself from the other bespectacled boy. "I figured I would show up at your house tomorrow or the day after to surprise you, but this works too." There was no limit to how pleased seeing his friend made him. Likewise, he knew that, if he ended up spending much time with Kyouya, he was bound to "meet" René soon as well. He was certain that the look on both their faces would be _spectacular_.

By this time, Sirius had stopped, since Harry's wrist had slipped from his grasp. "Oi, Harry, what's up? I thought we were going to –" he stopped, doubtless noticing how Harry was grinning at someone who, to Sirius seemed a total stranger. "Who's this then?"

"Right! Sirius, this is Ootori Kyouya, my penpal," Harry introduced. "Kyouya, this is my godfather, Black Sirius. I've mentioned him a lot on my letters, right?"

The flow of foot traffic had altered itself to move around the trio, which gave Kyouya room to bow politely to Sirius. "Of course. Black-kyou (4), it's an honor to meet you." Harry rolled his eyes; Kyouya should know fro their letters that even though Sirius was Lord Black, there was nothing lordly about him.

"You too, Kyouya," Sirius bowed back, grinning lazily. Even though Sirius had a translation charm on, he wasn't one for being too polite, so even though they had only been in Japan for a little while, Harry had yet to hear the man utter a surname or a suffix. That was what got him banned in the first place, for greeting the Emperor without any titles.

There had also been an explosion involved, but no one could prove Sirius' involvement.

"Don't mind him," Harry rolled his eyes. "He's always rude. Sirius, why don't you go on ahead without me? I'll catch you up soon enough."

"Okay, but you have to get conveyor belt sushi with me!" Sirius' grin hadn't faded in the least. Harry agreed quickly, and the man joined the fray as he walked off. They had placed tracking spells on one another for safety reasons, so Harry would have an easy time finding him later.

Be glad I got him to leave, or he'd be bothersome. So, what are you doing in Shinjuku? And without your bodyguards, no less! You always have one of them tailing you, don't you?"

"Tachibana is over there somewhere," Kyouya indicated the other side of the station. Harry wasn't quite tall enough to see over everyone else's heads, but he took his friend's word for it. "And I'm supposed to be meeting Tamaki here. I think he just wanted to ride the subway again though."

Even though his friend was obviously irritated, Harry laughed. "He does like commoner things, doesn't he? You shouldn't begrudge him his curiosity; I was the same way when I was a kid. I always wanted to see what a 'normal' person's house looked like, but it wasn't really to my taste, y'know? And didn't _you_ used to like going to Kyoto for sightseeing?" It was true. After they first became friends, Kyouya had insisted Harry visit the golden temple with him. They had only been five and six, but René acted younger at times.

"I've been meaning to ask you," Kyouya brushed off the jibe without issue. "Your friend René, he wouldn't happen to be –"

Harry found it highly ironic that the person being spoken of was the one to interrupt them.

"Kaa-san! I found you!" René shouted happily as he grabbed Kyouya in a tight hug. Yes, if Kyouya was used to _that_, then it made sense that he could keep his feet when Harry pounced on him.

Harry smirked, "'Kaa-san', René? Really now, I've always been fairly certain Kyouya was male..." He trailed off, maintaining his smirk. René had turned his had away from Kyouya at the first hint of Harry speaking. His eyes had grown wide and he quickly removed himself from the brunette to latch onto Harry.

"Harry! Mon ami! Why didn't you tell me you were coming for a visit?" He went even to the point of picking Harry up and trying to spin him around, but the wizard squirmed out his grasp. There was _no way_ Harry was going to let himself be spun around in a crowded subway station. "Wait, but you said Kyouya... you know Kyouya?"

"Of course," Harry grinned. "I mentioned him in letters before you moved here to Japan. Really René, your memory can be so faulty sometimes. So, have we answered that question of yours, Kyouya?" He knew they had.

"Yes, quite," Kyouya paused. "How long are you in Japan?"

"I'm leaving on the fifth. School starts back up on the seventh, and I have eight hours of time difference to deal with when I get home. Jetlag can be a real pain." He was going to say something a bit more coarse, but René had such delicate ears that he managed to divert his speech pattern.

"You'll be here for the New Year then!" René's eyes shown in much the way they had when they were still kids. "Kyouya, call Kaoru and tell him that we're bringing Harry! Please?"

"Get out of my brain (5), Tamaki," Kyouya pulled his phone from his pocket and hit a button, probably a speed dial.

It ended up that Harry spent the day with René and Kyouya after the "invitation" to join them on New Years for a big party their host club was going to be throwing. Really, they didn't give him an opportunity to protest, and Harry didn't want to. He and Sirius had been invited to something in Nara, but he didn't really care about that. The chance to spend time with his friends and meet their friends was one he wanted a lot.

His mind was so far from Voldemort, that it wasn't for three days that the Dark Lord and the situation in Britain came to mind again at all. Remus flooed their hotel room and told Harry that the Longbottoms had been attacked, and Alice was in St Mungo's for severe cruciatus exposure. She was going to be better, but she had to retire from the Aurors.

On New Years Eve, Harry hired a limousine to drop him off in front of the Hitachiin mansion at eight pm sharp. He had picked a stylish red suit that he knew made his eyes stand out with the added bonus of being festive in a classy manner. He was welcomed inside by a pair of redheaded twins (6) who immediately reminded him of Fred and George.

"You're the guy Tono and Kyouya-senpai invited, right?" Both twins walked by him, giving Harry a good up-and-down look. "How do you know Tono and the Shadow King?"

"Shadow King?" Harry inquired, amused. "I've known them both since I was a kid. We're penpals. I take it that you two are Hitachiin Hikaru and Kaoru, the 'devil' type in the club?" Both René and Kyouya had mentioned them. René mostly complained that they picked on him and that they were friends with the girl he liked while Kyouya noted their penchant for breaking things and that their twincest act was highly popular with the girls in the school.

Except, of course, with the girl René had a crush on, one Fujioka Haruhi.

"Haruhi! Come meet the 'mystery guest'!" One of the twins shouted, waving his arm to gain the attention of the girl in question. She was pretty, a first year student from what Harry had heard. Her hair was straight and brown down past her shoulders, and she had a pixy-like quality in that she was very dainty and pale with her face dominated by brown eyes.

"Fujioka-san, it's been a while," Harry bowed to the girl. He had recognized her immediately upon sight, and would have even if Tamaki had never mentioned her in letters. She was a scholarship student, very popular and completely uninterested in romance, from what Harry had been told. Haruhi often visited the Host Club with her friends, but usually she would just study while her friends were flirting with the Host boys. "I trust your mother is alright?"

"Who... oh!" Her eyes widened a bit. "You're that boy from the hospital, aren't you? You're the one who got that woman..."

"My mother is a very well established healer and pharmacist," Harry smiled slightly. "Potter Harry. It's a pleasure to meet you again, Fujioka-san."

"You can go yobisute (7) with me, it's okay," Haruhi smiled at him, and Harry insisted the same treatment. "I hope to speak with you again later, Harry."

She disappeared just as René appeared and tackled Harry to the floor. "Waa! My son looks so cute!" René shouted this directly in Harry's ear of course, and Harry couldn't help but want to hit his head on something. He was so sure he had broken the older boy of that habit years ago, since René had stopped signing letters with "Your Father" but apparently it was not so.

"'Son', Tono?" The twins giggled. "From the sounds of things, Haruhi knew Potter-kun before you did. What kind of father are you?"

"René, I'm only a year younger than you, you've never met my mother, and the last time our families crossed genetics was my father's great great aunt _in the early eighteen hundreds_, trust me, I checked," Harry fought to remove the older boy. "Besides, Kyouya looks more like my father than you do."

"But Harryyyyy!" René whined. "I said I'd be your father when we met, and I meant it!"

"It's just creepy at this point," Harry said. It had been funny while Harry was vacationing in France, but it got weird when their letters continued the trend.

Soon, Harry was being introduced to guests by Kyouya, who was kind enough to save him from the half-French loony. Not that Harry didn't love his friend dearly, but sometimes René was just too much. He also met the other two hosts, a pair of third year students who happened to be cousins. The elder was Morinozuka Takashi, a rather dashing bloke who Harry pegged as the "strong and silent" type - René's designation of him being the "wild" type didn't make much sense - who was a good deal taller than Harry. The younger was a very childish person named Haninozuka Mitsukuni, who looked like he was still in elementary school. His wide brown eyes gave Haruhi's a run for their money, and his stuffed bunny only made him look that much younger.

Harry fought to ignore the instant attraction he felt for Takashi, knowing that they would more likely than not never meet again.

_(To Be Continued...)_

**Author's Note: I actually intending to add a few more scenes... but I couldn't. I really wanted to get this out today, and it's so long already! So this one is really pre-slash. I'll post the continuation on the anniversary of when I posted the chapter of Takashi and Harry getting together (aka my birthday). You lot have to wait until September for Mori/Harry goodness, so nyaa. Or I might post it earlier just 'cause.**

**Wow! It's been a year since I started HPatHC, and it's been seven months since I completed it, omake and all... That's like, forever ago. The big bad author is now a big bad senior (and all her friends graduated D: see? Sadness), there are now more authors of Mori/Harry (okay, the only one I know of is Araceil, but still!), and HPatHC continues to get new readers! Sadly, it's no longer the longest Ouran fic, but oh well.**

**To those waiting for an update on Everything Happens for a Reason – it'll happen. I lost my notebook that had all my notes and a bunch of scenes in it though, so... yeah. Sorry! I've been working on an original story though. It's on my fictionpress account (link on profile) if anyone wants to check it out!**

**There will be another of these out on July 31 in honor of Harry's birthday (none for the movie release 'cause I'm not going to it since the movies suck). Also, I'm considering starting another HP/Ouran fic (with Mori/Harry pairing of course), though it won't be as long as HPatHC was. We'll see.**

**Calling Tamaki René is so weird XP If the timeline changes in Ouran were too confusing, someone please tell me and I'll post an explanation in the Note.**

(1) In HPatHC, I bumped the timeline up ten years to better match with Ouran. Since this story is AU of HPatHC (really only because I decided to do the Potter Co. thing), it's also the case here. (Voldy attacked in 1991, Harry started Hogwarts in 2001, etc.)

(2) Acatalasemia (aka Takahara's Disease) is a recessive genetic condition characterized by oral infection, or sometimes "no symptoms". Since we haven't been told how Kotoko died, I looked up terminal non-cancerous illnesses online, and the idea is this: Kotoko has acatalasemia and the infection she got turned out to be immune to all antibiotics (still bacterial, just mutated to immunity to all known antibiotics). Lily (amazing as she is) kills the infection and Kotoko lives. Yay for Haruhi having a mother!

(3) Chichi literally translates to "my father". It is not a form of address, but of referral. (Only when using the archaic "chichiue" or something like that would it be a form of address, generally.) I wouldn't have included this, but since Tamaki was speaking in French, I can see him referring to his father in Japanese.

(4) Kyou: a suffix meaning "lord". Since Sirius is Lord Black... yeah :P

(5) Something my friend Dudley says to me pretty often. We're generally on the same wavelength and sometimes I'll say exactly what she's thinking or we'll speak at the same time.

(6) Canonically, Hikaru has died his hair black by this point, but due to timeline changes he has not.

(7) Yobisute: Haruhi is requesting that Harry call her by her first name without any suffixes. Usually this is only done by close friends; Haruhi requested it because Harry's mother saved her mother's life.


	8. A Slight Alteration Part 2

Warnings: Pre-Slash, very AU, spoilers for Harry Potter books and Ouran manga, mentioned character death, set one and a half years after Part 1, still not complete, coarse language, way too bloody long

Disclaimers: Harry Potter belongs to JKR and associates, of which I am not one. Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Bisuko Hatori and associates, of which I am not one. I do not own the characters or settings in this story (but the situation is made-up by me). Set as an AU of HPatHC (it'll make sense as you read more). Beta'd by KounetsuDeb - on that note, you should read some of her stuff. She's got some interesting pairings going for Harry, including Ranka/Harry and Tamaki/Harry. The stories aren't half bad either ;)

Featuring: LovedButKindaEmo!Harry, SlightlyLessEvil!Kyouya, Hyperactive!Tamaki, Alive!Lily, and others

A Slight Alteration Part 2

"I'm... going to go to Tokyo for a while."

Harry stared at the ceiling, memorizing the flat patterns of the plaster and paint. He was seventeen years old, a wizard of age, and even in the year and a half since his last trip to Japan, he seemed to have aged more than he should have, yet his body was still that of a seventeen year old. Though he was still a bit under average height, standing at one hundred and seventy centimeters, Harry's body was held with a tight confidence even as he lay on Hermione Granger's couch.

"When did you decide this?" Hermione was half turned away from the laptop computer she had been playing games on. Harry had arrived three hours ago and laid down on her couch. Nothing was said in that time, and by the hollow look in his eyes Hermione knew better than to try to get Harry to talk before he took his own initiative.

"A little after I got here," Harry admitted. His voice was heavy and a bit rough from apparent disuse. In reality, he had overused his voice to point of being temporarily mute until the appropriate medical procedures could be enacted. "I need to get away. I want to see Kyouya and René."

"But you haven't written them in –"

"Nine months, twenty-four days," Harry continued her sentence smoothly. "I sent them both e-mail yesterday though. René freaked out of course, wanting to know why... Kyouya knew something was wrong. He's smart; you'd like him, though he's manipulative..." he paused and sat up slightly, glancing at the coffee table. Hermione had set a soda there when he arrived, but it was flat now. He drank it anyway.

"You don't think I'll let you go alone, do you?" Hermione asked after a moment. Harry hadn't continued speaking after drinking the flat cola and instead contemplated the brown depths. Dark brown. Smooth, creamy, lustrous brown just like – "Harry, you know Neville and I will follow you to the ends of the earth."

"I know." This had been said so many times that Harry couldn't say anything but "I know" to the statement. It was reflex, but that didn't make it any less true. "He's manipulative and kind of cold when you don't know him, but he's a nice bloke in his own right. I've known him for so long that I can tell how much of a mother hen he is. In the email he offered to let me stay at his house if I need to."

"That's nice of him," Hermione stated slowly. It occurred to the Boy-Who-Lived that Hermione might be lost as to what he was taking about, since he'd boomaranged back to the other conversation.

"Kyouya, I mean," he informed her. "Having non-magic friends is funny. As a kid it was just Neville, but then I met Kyouya and we were friends and then I met René and he wanted to be my dad and I think he still thinks he's my dad... he got together with Haruhi. They make an interesting match. I only really met her the once, but she's very level-headed. She's a lot like you I think, except... oblivious? Yes..."

He trailed off again and returned to contemplating the ceiling. That shape looked like a three-headed lizard monster, and to the left was a laughing woman. A falcon was near the light, but if he tilted his head it looked like a dra-

"I'll make sure to book flights for Neville and me with yours." Harry only nodded and closed his eyes, sighing. Things weren't right. They were so not right. "Just relax."

Harry made a noncommittal humming sound and continued to lie on the couch, thinking.

Everything was fucked up.

Harry returned home that evening after laying on Hermione's couch all day, only speaking enough to tell Hermione when he wanted his ticket for – as soon as humanly possible, tomorrow – and to insist that he pay for them. Hermione didn't resist much and let Harry punch in his credit card number. After being friends for so long, he supposed she knew better than to argue with him about money.

If things weren't how they were, Harry might have smiled.

Would Kyouya and Tamaki recognize him? Things had changed from childhood. Even when he visited in sixth year, things were different. He had been a kid escaping from a bit of darkness for a while, taking his godfather with him on a little tour of his favorite country and having fun with friends.

Now he was an adult escaping from paparazzi, dark memories and bloodstains with two friends in hopes of maintaining his sanity.

The plane trip was so utterly... normal. It was the beginning of summer vacation and the airport was busy, but Harry was always a VIP. Muggles knew his face; nowhere near as well as wizards, but muggles knew the face of the new Lord Potter, the recently knighted teenager... most everyone had some inkling of who he was supposed to be.

And then they were flying. First class all the way, in a cordoned off sector of the plane to keep visitors away. Neville was bigger and stronger than Harry, but not enough to be proper protection, not enough to intimidate curious fans. He was the largest of them, having lost the baby fat back in fifth year when a growth spurt brought him up to nearly six feet in height. His dirty blond hair was cropped close to his head, and he looked like a just another rich teenager going on vacation.

Harry knew Hermione was sending him concerned looks the whole way, but it was in her nature.

"Three days," he murmured softly, eyes on the clouds. Flying... when was the last time he went flying? Months... maybe not even for a year or more. That sounded about right. Back when he still had some free time. On a date with Ch-

"Harry, you can't blame yourself!" Neville grasped both of Harry's hands in his only to receive a shrug in return. Harry didn't want to be touched right now. No matter how tactile he had been, the idea of touching people... didn't matter. There was no reason, no appeal. "It wasn't-"

"Don't say it wasn't my fault," Harry's tone was cold. His throat had finished healing the night before when he took the last of his potions and no longer cracked when he spoke. "Don't you dare say it wasn't my fault. If I had been three days faster... if I had been smarter and figured out where the damned thing was being kept... if I hadn't let him come with us and get captured –"

"Charlie wouldn't want you to beat yourself up, Harry," Hermione was leaning on his side, and Harry didn't have the heart to move. He was up against the other edge of his seat already anyway. "He loved you, and -"

"And, irony of ironies, the death of the man I loved was what made it so I could kill Voldemort," Harry scoffed. This conversation was corny, and did they really think it would help? Charlie was dead for three days before he defeated Voldemort. The funeral was only a week ago... "I don't want to hear it. I..." He stopped and his vision grew blurry and unfocussed. His gaze drifted back to the clouds. They were descending, and the seatbelt light clicked back on; Harry hadn't removed his to begin with.

At his side, Hermione gave him a saddened look. He noticed of course, but couldn't bring himself to care.

It was almost the end of June, 2008. He had defeated Voldemort almost two weeks ago. The entire past year had been chaotic, but somehow he had survived. As planned, Dumbledore was killed by Snape in a play to earn Voldemort's trust; Harry still disliked the greasy man, but it was because of that merciful killing of Dumbledore that the war managed to turn out as well as it did. After all, if the old man had died of the curse he had been afflicted with by the horcrux, things would have been even worse.

Only two months prior to this, Charlie Weasley had come to Hogwarts as the temporary Care of Magical Creatures professor. Before Harry even realized it, he was dating the man. Everyone knew, but because of the way Dumbledore looked upon the relationship with favor, no one protested.

It was only by sheer luck that Voldemort didn't get one of his own into the Minister post when Scrimgeour "vanished." If Harry hadn't been of proper age to use the Potter vote and if Sirius hadn't had the Black vote in the Wizengamot, Death Eaters would have controlled the Ministry and Hogwarts, probably.

Because, really, with a name like Pius Thicknesse, there was no way the man wasn't a Death Eater.

Harry returned to Hogwarts with his friends in September, already having found one more horcrux in addition to the old diary and the stone ring since the old man's death. The locket had been sitting in the old abandoned house that Sirius had inherited from his family; it was to be torn down, and when they were clearing out anything of value, Remus found the true locket that Dumbledore had tried to find with Harry. Unfortunately, the horcrux had, in a bid for self-preservation, latched onto Remus and used him to try and get to safety. The house was destroyed with him still in it, and Remus died with the fragment of Voldemort's soul.

At school, Harry started up Dumbledore's Army again. He taught his fellow students how to defend themselves, how to duel. Even though Sirius and Remus had been drafted by McGonagall to teach, the extra training proved beneficial. During a meeting, Luna Lovegood had found Ravenclaw's diadem. Only two horcruxes remained.

Over Christmas Break, the Ministry seized the assets of several escaped Death Eaters, including the Lestrange family. Hufflepuff's cup was found, and Harry bought it at a Ministry auction. It joined the pile of destroyed objects in Harry's trunk, and so it came time for Harry to await Voldemort's move.

In May, Charlie was kidnapped. He and Harry had been dating for a year by this point, and Voldemort snatched him by letting a Common Welsh Green loose in London and then capturing him while the dragon tamer was subduing the beast. Harry could do nothing to rescue his boyfriend and was tortured nightly by images of Voldemort doing unspeakable things to the redhead. Charlie was tortured for information and just for fun, which resulted in Snape's true loyalties being revealed; the Potion's Master died in early June.

As seemed to be tradition, on the last day of Exams, something bad happened. Harry went to sleep after his Arithmancy exam, and saw Charlie finally die from the torture. That was the second boyfriend Voldemort had had killed. He didn't even have the decency to do it himself; the first time he'd had Barty Crouch do it at his resurrection, and the second was performed by Bellatrix Lestrange. He left as soon as he woke up.

Three days later, Harry had infiltrated Malfoy Manor, killed Nagini, and left the mansion in the middle of the night with Voldemort's head on a pike. None of the Death Eaters saw him come or go, but they did see when the aurors appeared and started catching them.

And now Harry felt completely drained. After Charlie's death he was ruled by the need for vengeance. Now he just wanted to escape.

"I'll get our things from the luggage rack," Neville volunteered.

"I can get my own," Harry supplied. He stood from his chair, taking a moment to undo his buckle, and grabbed his carry-on from the bins over their heads. It was the only visible luggage he'd brought for the entire trip – likewise, Hermione and Neville only had their carry-on – but inside he had far more of his things than even his friends would guess.

Ah, the wonders of magic.

They left the terminal and went through customs seamlessly. There was nothing wrong with their identification, and the scanning machines saw only what the teens wanted to be seen within their carry-on. Wooden wands wouldn't draw the attention of metal detectors.

It occurred to Harry that sneaking deadly weapons like wands shouldn't be so easy as this. But the idea of "going muggle" didn't appeal, and he wasn't about to leave his wand behind.

As soon as they were in the entrance of the airport, Harry caught sight of a certain glasses-wearing person. He directed Hermione and Neville to follow him, and found Kyouya with Tachibana – one of his bodyguards – were waiting for them near the doors.

"Kyouya, it's nice to see you again," Harry smiled at his friend, but he knew that Kyouya would see it as hollow. When he visited two winters ago, he'd gotten to know Kyouya's shell-personality better, and he realized that the false smile he currently bore was stolen straight from the older boy. "These are my friends from Britain, Granger Hermione and Longbottom Neville."

"Thank you very much for agreeing to let us stay in your home on such short notice," Hermione bowed politely, an action that Kyouya returned. If she didn't know everything, Harry would wonder at how she knew such a custom. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Unlike Hermione, Neville stuck strictly to the Western etiquette that was drilled into his mind back in England. "It's nice to meet you; Harry's talked about you and René a lot, so it's great to finally meet someone who's been friends with him almost as long as I have." He and Kyouya shook hands, and Harry noticed with a detached sort of interest that Kyouya's interest was piqued by both of Harry's friends in some way.

Probably because Harry never mentioned that his friends spoke Japanese, since it wasn't a popular language to learn in Britain. Of course, they were really just using a translation charm, but it would seem a little weird to Kyouya since he didn't know about magic.

"The pleasure is mine. I have a car waiting outside," Kyouya informed them. He sent a pointed glance to the bags each of them had – in Harry and Neville's cases, a backpack, and in Hermione's, a rainbow beaded bag – as he said the next part, "Is that all you brought?"

"Yeah," Harry answered for his friends. "I've never been here in summer, and we decided that rather than pack clothes we might not need that we would just go shopping today or tomorrow to be certain we have proper attire." This wasn't entirely true; they all had clothes for any weather but snow, but they were going shopping anyway.

"I see," Kyouya sounded dubious. Maybe it was because of the bad excuse or that he had caught on to how utterly _wrong_ everything was, but he didn't say anything else. Instead he escorted the three magical people to where his car waited.

Harry wondered if coming to visit Kyouya and René in Japan was really any better than wallowing in Britain, but he tucked the thought away. Here, no one wanted to become his significant other, a position that Harry had declared permanently out of the question.

He couldn't deal with the heartache of yet another boyfriend killed because of him.

* * *

Ootori Kyouya was not a stupid man. On the contrary, he was really quite brilliant. He was top in his graduating class at the prestigious Ouran High School – as well as in the Elementary and Middle sections – and was already considered the top student among the first year students in the Ouran University (1) Medical and Business divisions. In addition to his academic achievements, Kyouya managed to turn the stupid idea of his friend Suou Tamaki (otherwise known as René Tamaki Richard Grantainne) into a money making venture all while making important business connections with his fellow students.

These things, along with Kyouya's friendship with one Potter Harry, the heir to the Potter Company – perhaps the most important of all the Ootori Group's various business partners – made Kyouya not only more likely to inherit, but a very smart, devious, and observant person.

And yet there were _three_ people who seemed to think they had him fooled.

The first of these was Potter Harry. It was obvious to Kyouya, who knew human nature quite well, that something had traumatized him and that he had come on this vacation not to relax, but to get away. His smiles were empty, his laughter sardonic, and he was very much not the Harry that Kyouya had known since childhood. To be fair, Harry seemed to recognize that Kyouya had caught on to his act, but he also wasn't about to fess up, nor was he going to stop.

The second was Longbottom Neville. According to Harry's letters throughout the years, Neville had been his friend since they were infants, practically brothers, and while Neville wasn't as rich as Harry, he was heir to a title of lordship. Perhaps that was why, even though he played mother hen to Harry, he also kept between the Ootori and Potter heirs. He fretted about Harry madly, and definitely knew what was wrong with the boy, but whenever Kyouya made a move to help his friend, Neville was there saying there wasn't anything wrong.

If Neville's efforts were irksome, then those of Granger Hermione were insufferable. She was a brilliant woman, that much was obvious, but she openly underestimated Kyouya. She acted as though there were things she knew that _he_ could never even dare to fathom, and one of those things seemed to be what was wrong with Harry. Hermione would send Kyouya pitying glances whenever Neville did his mother hen thing, but she would never help him, either. She wouldn't reveal the information that could help Kyouya understand, because she so obviously thought that if she and Neville - two people whom Harry had been talking to for the past year, unlike Kyouya and Tamaki - couldn't help Harry, then no one else could.

These people were seriously pissing Kyouya off.

Kyouya didn't like being worried; there were very few people he would allow himself to become worried over, and in the unlikely event that he _did_ become worried, those people wouldn't even know it. The fact that his worry was futile and not something he could personally control or abate made him angry, a chink in his mask. That was mask was something only three people were, thus far, allowed behind: Kyouya's older sister, Harry, and Tamaki. Having a chink in his mask meant that other people whom he didn't want to know him could catch a glimpse.

This only served to make him madder and the chink more visible, because he knew he could not get rid of the cracks that were quickly appearing in his long-since cultivated persona.

Not wanting to lay blame upon himself or Harry, Kyouya decided that his current state was all to blame on Neville and Hermione. Maybe Tamaki a little too, since he was very rambunctious on the days he had come by to see Harry, and because he was feigning ignorance of Harry's current state, as if pretending the problem wasn't there would make Harry happy.

Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't. But it sure as hell didn't make Kyouya feel very happy.

Slowly, he drew in a breath of crisp, air-conditioned air. One. Two. Three. He exhaled, then repeated the exercise several times. He was not going to get worked up. He was not going to allow the cracks to spread any further. Already he had the mental equivalent of rubber cement, spackle, and paint ready to deal with it.

If Harry wanted to be distant and hide behind a mask, even among friends, then Kyouya would do the same.

The car stopped in front of his house, and Kyouya left the car with only a small glance to Tachibana. He knew even that much would make the man happy, and there was no need to add verbal thanks - which, surely, would make the man euphoric - on top of the hefty paycheck that the man already received from Yoshio. (2)

"Hi Kyouya," Neville was sitting in the garden, apparently his favorite place in Kyouya's entire manor. Likewise, the gardens at the Suou Mansion had drawn his attention; apparently he had a love for plants and had been top of his year in Herbology. Kyouya was long since used to the fact that Harry's school in Britain had strange focuses for class subject, including herblore - both old and new - zoology, astronomy, and strangest of all, fortune telling, so this idea wasn't too weird to him. Apparently the Longbottom heir was intending to have a career in herbology, and as much as Kyouya currently disliked the younger man, he wasn't going to make the gardens off-limits to a guest.

Although the way the Englishman assumed he could go yobisute with his host was rather annoying and made Kyouya wonder if he could make the gardens off-limits after all. It would certainly nail a bit of decorum into Neville's head. Hopefully.

"Neville-san," Kyouya nodded his head, because _he_ was a polite. "Find anything interesting?"

"There's an interesting breed of Tulips," Neville still hadn't looked up from the plant he was currently studying, a rhododendron. "I found them this morning. Seemed a bit vicious."

That was another thing that Kyouya had to get used to over the past week. Neville constantly personified plants. The roses were depressed, the oak was mocking the English ivy, which in turn was getting angry and trying to choke out the daffodils in revenge. Harry knew strange people, but Kyouya kept his opinions to himself on that matter.

"They _are_ red," Kyouya stated.

The fact that Neville nodded along, as if this statement made sense, made Kyouya consider twitching. "They're yellow bulbs, too," Neville informed him, finally looking away from the rhododendron with some final notes being made on what was most definitely a scroll of parchment with a feather quill. "You can drop the honorifics, y'know."

Kyouya hummed a noncommittal response; he wouldn't drop the honorific. It was enough of a concession that he wasn't calling Neville by his surname already, and further feigned closeness would surely make the Ootori gag.

"Oh, and some guys dropped in, friends of yours apparently. René was with them, and the maid didn't look too surprised so I'm assuming they weren't lying. They're with Harry and Hermione in the house somewhere. I wanted to finish up out here before I joined them though."

Kyouya withheld an irritated twitch at the vagueness. "I see." It was likely the Host Club then. Kyouya's last class of the day ran later than any of the others who were in the University section by now, at least on Tuesdays, and the Club itself would have ended as well. He wondered in a vague sort of way if the younger Hosts - Morinozuka Satoshi (second year, Charismatic Type), Haninozuka Yasuchika (second year, Serious Megane Type), Hattori Hiroshi (first year, Cute Bashful Type) - or the current trainees - Matsuoka Ryuu (Middle school third year, Prince Type) and Hattori Hideki (Middle school second year, Strong Silent Type) - had come or if it would just be the crowd that Harry would have already met.

This was answered as he was approaching his bedroom to put his things away and - hopefully - change into casual clothing before he was noticed. A burst of raucous laughter that could only be the combined effort of the Hitachiin Twins (current Co-Presidents of the Host Club), Satoshi, and Hiroshi came from the private living room near to the sleeping quarters of the Ootori family. It was an intimate living room that only those very close to the family ever entered.

Kyouya had to restrain himself slightly, but did so admirably. While he didn't know the trainees very well, as a still-active alumnus of the Club, he was going to be courteous to both of them; Satoshi and Yasuchika were already used to his nature, and the first years had to get used to it during their term as trainees. As it was, Kyouya had only barely gotten to know the trainees, enough to put them in categories but nothing more.

Calmly, the youngest Ootori went to his room, changed clothes, and returned to the hallways that opened into the living room.

Were he to claim surprise at what he saw, it would be a lie. Tamaki was "holding court" as the center of attention, still in his uniform, as were the rest of those currently attending school. On his left sat Fujioka Haruhi, Tamaki's girlfriend of more than a year, with her hair tied back in a haphazard ponytail as she filled in what looked to be a crossword puzzle. To Haruhi's right sat the twins, who were actually wrestling on the floor about something, between the love seat that Tamaki and Haruhi were seated in and Hermione's chair.

Hermione was looking at the fight with a bemused expression, but looked a bit aggravated as she had a book in her lap - one of Kyouya's books that he _knew_ he kept in his room, which had been locked the morning. It seemed Granger was a know-it-all and an expert lock-picker. Seated on the floor beside Hermione's chair was Harry, his black curls going everywhere as usual as he sat criss-cross, eyes closed but obviously paying at least cursory attention.

With their backs turned to Kyouya, Satoshi and Yasuchika were expounding upon something to their elder brothers. After entering the university section, Hani - who now insisted that he be called by his first name or some variation thereof - had matured some. He now stood at the average height for a woman rather than being unbearably short, though he still had a childish look about him. He could pass for a middle school student at least, and while still carried Usa-chan around frequently, he left the stuffed bunny behind as often as not. Mori hadn't changed much, though he had gained a few more cm in height.

Further down the line, Hiroshi and Hideki - an inseparable pair of brothers - were doing... whatever it was they did. Probably conspiring again. Hiroshi was rambunctious and wild, a childish and boyish looking (though not to the extent of Mitsukuni, rather with a face promising a handsome young man) prankster. His wide blue eyes drew girls in, and his daring flirtation kept them.

Hiroshi's younger brother Hideki was reserved, a shy guy who hid behind a front of stoicism. Hideki looked older than he was, like an older high school student rather than a mid-level middle school student, and had a bad boy look with a quiet nature. His brown hair was worn long, usually tied in a low ponytail, and his piercing black eyes gave an extra air of mystery to the young Host-in-training. They were like a new Mori-Hani combo, but completely their own, and without the underlying master-servant loyalty, though Hideki seemed to fill the big brother role even to the point that Hiroshi addressed him as "aniki" sometimes.

The last of the Hosts, the trainee Ryuu, was sitting on a chair to the right of Tamaki and Haruhi's love seat, hanging off of every word from the Prince Alumnus. Ryuu was every bit as dashing as Tamaki and had the same sort of enchanting voice, though rather than having a foreign, ethereal prince-like charm, he was more the traditional Japanese prince. Very proper, but also quite ready to cut loose.

"Good evening," Kyouya greeted as he entered his living room. "I trust everyone is having a good time?" His tone was laced with an imperceptible level of annoyance. Were it not for the fact that he didn't want to scare off the trainees - difficult as it might seem, it was _possible_ - he would have let more of his ire creep into his tone, but he doubted very much that a dark voice would be easily overcome by his smiling mask. So he masked his voice as well.

"Kaa-san! Welcome home!" Tamaki left the couch immediately and pounced on the Shadow King. Were it not for years of experience with dealing with his blond friend, Kyouya would have been knocked off his feet in an instant. As it was, he managed to keep his balance and ignore the laughter from several of the Hosts and the bemused look that had crept onto Haruhi's face. She was used to Tamaki showing attention for other people, and was likely quite secure by this point that she wasn't actually playing second fiddle for more than about ten seconds in each instance.

"I told you not to call me that," Kyouya stated mildly, prying the Frenchman off with practiced ease. "No matter your strange fantasies, you are not Harry's father and I am _very_ much not Potter Lily."

Tamaki pouted, but dragged Kyouya into the circle regardless, even going so far as to grab a chair himself and drag it between Ryuu and Hideki so Kyouya wouldn't have to do it himself. Despite his own preferences, Kyouya was soon involved with the little party and had the cook bring in food for everyone - they had snacks, but not food, and Kyouya wasn't even going to _touch_ those little creme-filled pandas (3).

It wasn't long, however, until Kyouya realized something was especially off with Harry that evening. He was interacting with everyone when the mood struck him, though mostly he just sat at Hermione's feet feigning sleep (or Neville's when the other Englishman had returned from the garden and wasn't covered in dirt), except for one person. There was one person among all those in the room who Harry seemed to refuse to so much as _glance_ at.

Considering Mori looked just as confused by this as Kyouya felt, it could be safely assumed that the second year university student hadn't done anything to warrant such treatment.

Kyouya, it seemed, wasn't the only one to notice the behavior. Tamaki tried several times to get Harry involved in a conversation with Mori about history or any number of other things that they could potentially speak about. In those instances, Harry was even more tight lipped than either Mori or Hideki, and would studiously ignore everyone until a new conversation topic came up. At the moments of most pointed ignorance, Hermione would get that pitying "I know things you can never know" look in her eyes.

It wasn't until ten o'clock, when most everyone had been picked up to go home (excepting Tamaki, whose car came only for Haruhi since he had decided that a school night was the optimal time to have a sleepover), that Kyouya finally called Harry out.

"If you don't like Mori-senpai, you should just say so," Kyouya stated. He was sitting on a couch in his pajamas - some Tamaki insisted on since it was a "big group sleepover" - and pretending to read one of his text books.

Somehow, that statement got the first honest reaction out of Harry that Kyouya had seen the entire visit. Harry's eyes were a little wide, his brow furrowed, and his mouth twisted to the side in confusion. "Why would I dislike Takashi-san?"

"But you didn't talk to him even once!" Tamaki gaped. "You even talked to the kouhai, but you were being rude to Mori-senpai!"

Another honest reaction came from Harry: a vaguely bemused look with an underlying thread of pain and sadness. "Well, of course I didn't talk to him; I like him, and that's the entire problem. I'm going to go brush my teeth."

With that non-sequitur, Harry departed the room.

Kyouya furrowed his brow. Harry liked Mori... and that was the problem? That made no sense. Harry liked Kyouya and Tamaki just fine, and he obviously liked Hermione and Neville, so why would Mori specifically... It took a moment, but Kyouya realized the underlying truth. He _knew_ Harry was bisexual - it would have been hard not to when Harry wrote him in late '03 about his conflicting crushes on the captain of a rival sports team, Wood, and a girl in his house, Hannah.

"Why would a crush make him wary?" Kyouya didn't even realize he was going to say it aloud until he already had, and it was too late to take it back. He noticed Hermione and Neville exchange glances and nods.

"Well, Harry did open up on the matter first," Hermione sighed. "We can tell you a little, but neither of you can tell anyone else. René, that means you can't tell Haruhi." Both of the meddlesome Brits tended to go yobisute easily, but Hermione at least asked permission first. "Harry is wary of Takashi-kun because he's afraid."

Kyouya wracked his mind. Afraid? Why should Harry be afraid? Was he intimidated? Or was he afraid that any advances he might make would be rebuffed? These thoughts, however, did not gain a voice.

"See, Harry had his first boyfriend back in fourth year - er, I guess it's third-year middle school equivalent, but our school was combined both sections," Neville started. "Really nice bloke too; he was considered the most popular guy in the school. They were in the same House and specialized in the same position on the... soccer team, but the other guy took a different position since Harry was really good at it."

"And they were both selected as competitors for a tournament your school was hosting," Kyouya continued effortlessly. "We're already aware of this. Harry doesn't omit much from his letters."

"Right, well, the guy, Diggory Cedric, died in the final task of the tournament, right after he and Harry had tied," Neville shifted uneasily in his seat. "I suppose you know about that, too? Well, Harry blamed himself for it, since the guy who attacked them was after him, not Cedric."

"Do you know about Charlie?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, the older man Harry started dating a year ago," Tamaki answered quickly.

"Well... he died too," Hermione didn't look at either of them. "About two weeks ago, give or take a few days. He was kidnapped by terrorists who had a grudge against Harry's family, and they video taped Charlie being tortured and sent Harry one film a day for three months before he received the snuff film."

Kyouya did not move. He didn't do so much as blink. The crack on his mask grew longer until it split entirely, and he stared, horrified, and the people seated before him.

One word came to mind.

_Fuck_.

_(To be continued...)_

**Author's Note: Um... yeah. When I came up with the idea, this was supposed to be a oneshot. Part 1 got out of control, so I revised the idea to make it a three-shot. Only, what you see here is only half of what Part 2 was supposed to entail, and I'm not keen on making such a monster chapter right now (it's ridiculously hot. like, 102 to 105 for several days. I'm a 60-70 degrees kinda girl, and usually Oregon complies, but no air conditioning=dead me). I'm trying to think up an occasion in August for me to post the rest of what Part 2 was to be, and I should post something on September 1st. It looks like this will end up being 5 parts... maybe I should have just made it a proper story -_-" At least I can extend the plot properly this way (yeah, it has some real plot, not just "Harry isn't happy anymore and doesn't wanna love Takashi". You can probably get a good gauge of the plot from a certain something in this chapter...).**

**I actually realized about mid-chapter that Hermione is older than Kyouya (by about two months). I was amused. Why? Because these are my intended pairings (mostly side) for the story: Mori/Harry (duh, main pairing of course), Kingsley/Lily (I figure she's had a few boyfriends), Sirius/Ranka (Kotoko divorced with Ranka, but they're still friends and have a healthy relationship that way), Tamaki/Haruhi (which I hate, but it works with the girlier Haruhi), and Kyouya/Hermione. There should also be mention of Neville/Luna at some point, but I'm not sure.**

**Anyway, Happy Birthday to Neville. Why? Because there's something else I'd been intending to post for Harry's birthday, so I'll post it tomorrow. 'Course, I haven't started writing it yet... but it'll be up. Promise. If anyone can tell me a good HP or Ouran-related thing that occurs in August (preferably mid-to-late) for Part 3, that'd be appreciated!**

(1) In the manga, chapters 70-72, there's been mention of an unnamed university that most Ouran students attend that has many high-level departments. Since it's not mentioned by name (or, if it is, it wasn't in the translated scanlations), I just called it Ouran University for simplicity's sake.

(2) This is a reference to an omake from the manga where we get to properly meet Team Kyouya. Tachibana and the other two members of the bodyguard (and whatever the hell else they are) team are highly devoted to Kyouya and his happiness. Kyouya's thought here isn't exaggerating by much.

(3) It's a Japanese snack called Hello Panda (thanks to KounetsuDeb for giving me the name!), and they're really yummy. Sort of like inside-out pocky with a lot of creme.


	9. A Slight Alteration Part 3

Warnings: Pre-Slash, very AU, spoilers for Harry Potter books and Ouran manga, mentioned character death, set three days after Part 2, still not complete, coarse language, way too bloody long

Disclaimers: Harry Potter belongs to JKR and associates, of which I am not one. Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Bisuko Hatori and associates, of which I am not one. I do not own the characters or settings in this story (but the situation is made-up by me). Set as an AU of HPatHC (it'll make sense as you read more).

Featuring: LovedButKindaEmo!Harry, SlightlyLessEvil!Kyouya, Hyperactive!Tamaki, Alive!Lily, and others

A Slight Alteration Part 3

"Visiting a Host Club?" Harry was reasonably flabbergasted as he allowed the words to flow from his own mouth. Surely he had misheard! After all, he had no reason to believe that such a thing had been said, even if it _was_ René who he was speaking with.

"Not just _a_ Host Club!" René pouted at Harry as if by saying "a" he had been dealt some great insult. "It's _the_ Host Club! Come on, you went to that Host function last time you visited Japan, right? You'll get to see what we do with our free time!"

"Won't it be kinda weird though? I mean, we aren't students at that school," Hermione's lips were pursed, and Neville looked a bit antsy in his seat. It had been three days since they had met the entire Host Club, both active members and alumni, and René just so happened to not have classes on Fridays so he came to "entertain" the foreigners for the day. This involved taking them sight-seeing around Tokyo and blathering about "commoner" things.

As the only "commoner" in the group, Harry knew Hermione was probably pretty pissed at Tamaki's vocabulary, but she had yet to say anything on the matter. It was likely her good manners shining through.

Either way, now it was three o'clock – half an hour before the Ouran High School Host Club was set to open for the day, and Tamaki was committed to being present for the last club event before they started preparing for the school's Festival.

As a matter of fact, all the other alumni were going to be present at some point throughout the hours of club, which was the real reason Harry didn't want to go. René probably knew this, considering Hermione and Neville had told him and Kyouya about Charlie's death (for no one would call Tamaki stupid after seeing what lay beneath his eccentric exterior), and yet he seemed intent upon putting Harry into an awkward situation.

Were the young wizard unaware of his magical friends telling his muggle friends the bare bones of what happened to Charlie, Harry might be totally oblivious to René's attempts at matchmaking.

"Alright."

As it was, Harry would tolerate it for the sheer fact that he knew René was doing this because he cared. Some of it might be pride in the club that he had been building up for years, and part of it was certainly that René wanted "his son" to give in to attraction, but Harry knew that it was mostly because René wasn't half as stupid as some people might think and had noticed the shell Harry built around himself.

"That's great!" René almost jumped out of his seat, his seat belt being the only thing stopping this. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Harry and made a sound that could only be classified as a _squeal_. "Driver, to Ouran, High School Section! We're going to do a cosplay today of characters from a manga! I had Kyouya order costumes to fit you three as well!"

"No way," Neville was already shaking his head vehemently. "I am _not_ going to wear any costume for your... club-thing. Harry showed me some of those photographs you sent him, and I wouldn't be caught _dead_ in that stuff." He shuddered, and Harry knew exactly which costumes he meant; the horridly frilly ones that looked like they came straight out of Nearly Headless Nick's wardrobe. Those really hadn't been flattering.

Hermione's lips were still pursed, though they had relaxed slightly when Harry had spoken. "I can't imagine you had our measurements in time for it anyway, so I somehow doubt any costumes Kyouya ordered would fit us, René," she stated reasonably. "And a costume for me would be strange at the very least since I'm female."

"Not really," René was smiling widely, a strange light in his eye. "Haruhi has worn costumes for the club a few times; dressing as a princess for a knight theme or a goddess for a greek god theme, for example. She's dressing up today too."

"You still won't have had our measurements," even as Hermione said this, she sounded less than sure of herself.

René just smiled.

The expression was so reminiscent of Kyouya that Harry had to shiver a bit in his friend's grasp. That was _not_ the sort of expression that René should hold. Ever.

Not five minutes passed before they were pulling in front of a very large, very impressive looking campus. Harry had never actually been to Ouran High School – he'd been to the University campus a few times since arriving in Tokyo, but not the high school campus – and found he rather liked the atmosphere. It was rich, flashy, and full of too many giggling girls, but he liked it. Which was weird since he hadn't found himself liking much since Charlie –

He shook the thought off, straightened his black tie, and followed behind René. As amusing as it was to watch someone _else_ be mobbed by fangirls, he couldn't help but feel that René enjoyed it a good deal more than he ever had, something that probably shouldn't be true considering the man's girlfriend wasn't among those fawning over him.

"Hello ladies, I'm sorry I'm in a bit of a hurry," René heaved a dramatic sigh as he dealt with the mob. Did these girls have no decorum? It was amusing as hell, but they were supposed to be the crème de la crème or something, weren't they? "Don't forget to visit the Host Club when the doors open at three-thirty! All Hosts, past and present, will be attending today, and we even have some guests to help with today's cosplay. I look forward to seeing each of you later." He gave a sultry smile to the throng, and Harry was pretty sure one of the yellow-clad girls fainted.

Several thumps sounded; okay, more than one.

After that, they had few interruptions in their quest to reach the club room. With not even twenty minutes left until the start of activities, Harry wondered if there was actually time to get into costumes; from what he'd seen, the costumes were always pretty elaborate after all.

Upon arriving in the room, Harry didn't get the chance to ask. Clothes were shoved in his arms – a long white cloak with black inside, white pants with a very wide black belt of some sort, a sword (judging by the weight, it was real), and a sort of half-helmet with horns that would only cover the left side of his head – and then he was tossed behind a curtain. It didn't take long to get dressed, though he took care to button the coat; he wasn't sure if it was _supposed_ to be buttoned, but he still had a healing wound on his side from a curse he'd taken when attacking Malfoy Manor. A glamour was added for good measure.

"Fits perfectly," Kyouya noted as Harry exited the curtained area, pushing up glasses that were more rectangular than his usual oval frames.

For a moment Harry blinked at the image the older boy made; had he straightened his hair? He was also wearing a white coat – in fact, everything he wore was a blinding shade of white – but it was slit up the sides rather than the front and didn't quite reach the knees of his trousers in front while the back reached his feet. A sort of mini-cloak (Harry could think of no better phrase) covered his shoulders, and Harry could only assume that the large black bow a meter away was meant to be his weapon.

"Yes, though I'm not sure I want to know _how_," Harry pursed his lips in much the same manner that Hermione had been earlier.

"I got the measurements for you three from the tailor," Kyouya didn't bother to specify which tailor. Harry, Hermione, and Neville ended up going to the same tailor for their clothes that the Ootori family always went to; obviously, customer confidentiality did not extend to telling another customer how big around someone's waist was.

A tiny smile flicked onto Harry's face, but died quickly. It was kinda funny, especially –

"I am _not_ going out like this!" Harry jumped at Hermione's angered screech. "It's _skanky_! Whoever had this idea is going to _burn in hell_ and I'll personally be the torturer!"

Harry flinched slightly at the mention of torture but opted to sit back and wait to see what happened. It had to be really bad for Hermione to get so mad; after dating Ron Weasley back in fifth year, she had loosened up a lot, so it wasn't like she was just freaking out over showing a bit of stomach or cleavage or something.

"It's... not so bad," Haruhi's voice came out of Hermione's dressing room; apparently the girls were sharing or had needed help getting into the costumes or something. "Though I think I might help you with the 'torturing' thing. That is rather cruel."

"'Rather cruel'?" Hermione's scowl was audible, and Harry wondered if her threat was as idle as it would normally be taken. "Never mind. I'm getting out of these... '_garments_' and to hell with this cosplay!"

Maybe it was a coincidence, but at that exact moment, the Hitachiin twins – both dressed in black kimono and hakama, with geta on their feet, swords (Kaoru's was easily as tall as he was), and their hair spiked (with Hikaru's dyed black, or else a wig) – ran by laughing, causing a small wind in their wake that made the curtain covering Hermione and Haruhi's changing room open for viewing for about three seconds.

In the first second, Harry saw Hermione's "costume" and realized precisely why she was unhappy with it. To be fair, Harry had definitely seen more of her flesh when they went swimming since bikinis didn't exactly hide much, but the green ripped-looking top stopped only just under her breasts, and the skirt barely covered anything. Compared to everyone else, who were all very much covered, her clothes were downright scandalous. The cracked skull mask on her head and green wig were made rather inconsequential.

In the second second, Harry heard a strange gagging sound from his companion.

In the third second, Harry turned away from Hermione, who was red-faced and wide-eyed to see Kyouya in much the same state as Hermione, though obviously for another reason. The ex Shadow King of the Ouran High School Host Club walked away swiftly, but Harry knew he'd seen a dribble of blood coming from between his friend's fingers before he had turned around.

The idea of Ootori Kyouya losing control at the sight of female flesh was... entertaining. Harry felt his lips twitching again, and didn't try to force it down; he'd read somewhere that giving in to emotion physically made the emotions more acutely felt. Crying increased feelings of sadness, smiling increased happiness, and running increased fear to the point of panic. Sure, being at all happy or amused so soon after Charlie made him feel guilty, but he also knew that Charlie would want him to be happy and not mope for the rest of his life.

Harry would give himself another few weeks or months though, however long it took.

"Harry! It's your turn for make-up!" René's voice came from the other side of the room, near the bathroom, and Harry decided to leave Hermione to her own devices. If she decided not to cosplay, no one had the right to force her.

Three minutes later, Harry found himself impressed by the fact that the hyperactive twins, the current Presidents of the Host Club, were quite good with make-up. It made sense when it was mentioned that they were intending to follow their mother in the fashion industry, but Harry was still impressed. If one looked at him, they would never know he was usually rather tan; his skin was now almost a vampiric white, and his eyes were rimmed in black with perfectly straight lines descending from them.

If Harry hadn't known better, he never would have recognized himself, even with the lightning bolt scar on his brow.

Of course, it was difficult to recognize Tamaki, too. His chin had been painted with _stubble_ and he looked a lot more masculine that usual, even with a flowy black wig. He wore the same black kimono and hakama as the rest of the Hosts (Kyouya, Harry, Neville, and Hermione were the only ones not wearing the traditional garb), but with a white cape over that and a flowery woman's kimono worn open over that. A straw hat was perched atop his head... and Harry thought he looked totally stupid.

When Harry got out of the make-up chair, he turned around and burst out laughing. He could he not? Morinozuka Takashi was wearing much the same costume as everyone else, though the kimono was worn open to expose his chest, and a katana was sheathed at his side. But that wasn't the funny bit at all; he'd been given extensions which were gelled to tick out in a huge halo of spikes that looked utterly ridiculous in conjunction with an eye-patch, a white cape over his shoulders, and Haninozuka Mitsukuni clinging to him.

Mitsukuni seemed quite pleased with the whole thing. He wore a pink wig and carried around his stuffed bunny, though it was wearing a costume too, of a stuffed lion. Everything else was the standard of the "shinigami" uniform.

When Harry came up for air, everyone was staring at him like he'd grown a second head out of his rear end and declared himself pregnant with the spawn of a zucchini.

Quite suddenly the young wizard found himself enveloped in Hermione's arms – now clad in a white uniform more similar to Harry's than the ragged ones from before, though her hair was still green and the mask on her head was the same – and though his mirth had abated, Hermione's had only just been sparked.

"You laughed!" Hermione practically cackled this. "Neville! He laughed! And it was a real one!"

Harry attempted to extricate himself from his friend's breasts. "If you don't let me go I'll never laugh again and I'll burn your copy of _Hogwarts, a History_ while you're tied to a chair," Harry said this deadpan. Actually, he was a bit queasy from being shaken so quickly and suddenly as Hermione was, so adding "and I'll barf on your shoes" might have made a better threat. Either way, he was released quickly, as though his words had scalded Hermione, and he took a few dizzy, staggered steps away.

"With our luck you'll follow through on the first anyway," Neville pouted as he moved forward. Blue hairspray had been applied, and his hair was swept up in a messy sort of hairdo. He wore a white coat similar to Harry's open with his chest bared and, just like everyone else, had a sword at his hip. What looked like a jawbone was attached to the right side of his face, which was... weird.

Harry just shrugged, gave his best fake smile, and watched his friend's shoulders droop. That hadn't been his intention, but there was little Harry could do to take it back now. He couldn't help but wonder, if physical action enhanced emotion, could it turn his fake smile into a real one?

"Three minutes until I unlock the doors," Kyouya called, as if the moment of Harry laughing and being stared at had never happened. "Hikaru, Kaoru, Hermione-san is the last one in need of make-up. Get her done quickly. Everyone, positions. It's expected that most of the girls in the school will be attending today, as well as some alumni, so be ready. Mitsukuni-senpai (2), your cakes are in the kitchen as always. Harry, Hermione-san, Neville-san, you're free to do as you please during club hours but please be courteous." Harry was certain he heard "if you can" muttered toward the end, but didn't comment on it.

Since when did Kyouya voice those little thoughts anyway, muttered or no?

It was amazing, Harry later decided, what the Host Club could do. They were all spoiled rich kids like him, sure, but they were spoiled rich _muggle_ kids, and he was sure that even wizards would have trouble with the costumes, make-up, and decor (admittedly, Hermione had transfigured her green costume into something Haruhi had shown her in the manga they were cosplaying).

Wizards also wouldn't be able to simultaneously woo crowds of five or more girls at a time with only a few carefully placed words. Harry might be able to, but he was famous.

He ended up spending a lot of time with the younger Host-teams, particularly the youngest pair of Hideki and Hiroshi. Not because he found them particularly interesting or anything, but because their table was the one furthest from Takashi and Mitsukuni. That was a very important factor to decision making at the moment, since Harry wanted to keep as far away from Takashi as possible; while some might think this was due to embarrassment over bursting out laughing at the college student's costume, Harry knew there were four people who knew the truth, or a version of it.

If he were to let down his newly-built shields around a certain Tall, Dark, and Handsome, he would be thoroughly infatuated instead of just "interested". If he became infatuated, he wouldn't be able to hide it. Either Takashi would deny him - which would be a blow - or he would accept and end up dead.

Some might say that Harry was over thinking things. How could he know he would become infatuated? How could he know he wouldn't be able to hide it? Simply put, the exact same emotions that he felt bubbling under the surface now had been aroused by Cedric and Charlie, and that was simply how things had gone down with both of them.

Even if pursuing someone wouldn't lead to their death, the idea of doing so so soon after Charlie's death left a foul taste in Harry's mouth.

So Harry kept as far away from Takashi as possible throughout the day, making small talk with the girls who were visiting and hanging out with Hermione and Neville whenever possible. In a vague sense, he knew he had a good time, but he couldn't for the life of him manage to make his smile reach his eyes.

"It was so busy!" Hikaru groaned as he flopped back onto a couch after all the guests had left. "It was... it was... ugh."

"Worse than the event for unveiling the new hosts and trainees," Kaoru agreed as he flopped down beside his brother. He reached over and took the black wig from his brother's head. "At least we weren't in charge today."

"Agreed; thank you for being here, Tono!" Hikaru bellowed. Harry felt a tiny smile twitch to life, not a fake this time, at the twins. When he had met them a year and a half ago they had been a lot more... cohesive, but it seemed that they had some individuality now. René's shout from the changing room was muffled - as it was a hot day, even with air-conditioning, his three layers were a bit much - but carried a sentiment of "you're welcome" or something like that.

"Never again will I go for the 'most popular' voted character," Hiroshi shuddered as he tok a seat as well. His reservations had doubled when his costume was seen, and even though his brother wasn't cosplaying a popular character, the younger could only nod in agreement. "We were servicing twenty girls at once for a while. Twenty! It's not humanly possible to keep them all happy at once."

"Twent-two," Hideki corrected, running a hand through his spiky black hair.

"Right, twenty-two," Hiroshi wrinkled his nose. "That's even worse. And my hair's all sweaty from the wig." With that last complain, he collapsed against his younger brother's side and declared he was going to take a nap and if anyone interrupted him he was going to hire a hitman. The younger - and larger - of the two brothers rolled his eyes, thinking no one could see him, and shoved his brother off to lie down on the couch instead of him.

"Amused, Harry?" René appeared, back in his suit from earlier in the day with a towel around his neck.

"Vaguely," Harry replied instantly. He really was amused, but he wasn't exactly about to start laughing, either. "I can see why you like doing this, though I'd never be able to. My fangirls - and boys - back home would _mob_ me."

"Like the 'Vaine' girl?" Harry had mentioned to his friends about the girl in the year below him who kept sending him candies and trying to push her boobs in his face, as if double-Ds and truffles would make him fall in love with her. He did not, of course, mention that the candies were laced with love potions or that her boobs had attention-drawing charms on them, but that wasn't entirely necessary to get the point.

"Worse."

"Ah," René wrinkled his nose. He'd been particularly vocal about the sexual harrassment that Harry was often submitted to, being famous as he was, and had told Harry in no uncertain terms that he should get a restraining order or a body guard or something. "By the way, I was certain that Hermione's costume was green. Kyouya said it was the green one anyway... where did she get the white costume?"

"Magic," Harry deadpanned. He'd found this a very good tactic for not telling his friends about magic; do tell them, but say it sarcastically so they _think_ he's making fun of them when he really isn't. It had been working for years, over phones, webcam conversations, and face to face encounters alike.

And René was still amused by Harry's occasional comment of "magic", so he didn't press. Kyouya often did try to get Harry to fess up, but it never worked.

A sudden "BANG", like a gun going off or a car backfiring made Harry jump in his seat, and he wasn't the only one. There was no way that it could be, but Harry had resigned himself, as he spun quickly to the source of the noise, to the idea that it was caused by someone apparating into the room. It could not, he decided, be a disapparation since he highly doubted any of his friends were likely to be dumb enough to disapparate right in the middle of a group of muggles, or so loudly.

He was not disappointed - greatly distraught, but not disappointed - by the sight that greeted him. Harry hadn't killed any Death Eaters in his raid on Malfoy Manor, just Voldemort himself, and most of them had evaded capture thus far, including a certain crazy woman with dark curls and deep set eyes who was standing in the middle of the room, grinning like the madwoman she was, with her wand pointed directly at Harry's heart.

"Fuck," Harry swore to the heavens. He slipped his wand out of its wrist holster - which, for convenience's sake, had previously been disguised as a watch and had an expansion charm to fit the 11 inch wand in the half-inch space - and brought it up to meet Bellatrix's, but she didn't seem like she was going to move immediately. Her eyes roved the assembled muggles with a mix between lust and disgust at the attractive men, and her mouth curved from the grin to a wicked smile, the kind that only the most dangerous of deranged people had which - guess what? - she just so happened to be.

"Looks like ickle baby Potter found himself some boy toys," Bellatrix purred in English. "Too bad he couldn't find anything better than muggle filth. But I think..." Her wand arm suddenly snapped away from Harry and toward Hermione, who had been inching forward. "_Crucio!_"

Rather than waste time with trying to help Hermione immediately (_oh god screams... it was like Charlie all over again_) he whipped his wand for a silent _Reducto_ that Bellatrix dodged with ease. While the far wall exploded, Hermione's screams were cut off and she was gathered up quickly by Kyouya, who seemed to be running on automatic.

"She doesn't scream as well as the blood trai- _Protego_!" Bellatrix paused her attempt at Voldemort-style monologue to protect herself from Harry's cutting curse. "Now now, Potter, didn't that mudblood mother of yours teach you any manners? Or did I maybe hit a sore spot? Did you _love_ the blood traitor? Did you want to _marry_ him?" Harry tried to reign in his temper; if he wasn't reasoning, then he would be on her level, and she had years of dueling of experience and great spell knowledge to hang over his head. "Too bad you were too late to -"

Harry didn't give her a chance to finish. He couldn't give her a chance. Damn it! Damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it! This became Harry's mantra as he sent whatever spells he could think of at the dark witch. Just when he might have been starting to heal a little bit this fucking _bitch_ -

"You'll have to do better than that, Potter! You and Longass haven't got a chance," Bellatrix cackled. By this time, Neville had joined in with Harry, acting more as a shield to stop any spells from hitting the muggles behind them, but Bellatrix was still having no troubles with them.

If Harry had been thinking of anything other than this bitch and how he had seen her torturing Charlie and how she had just tortured Hermione, he never would have done it. But, then, he saw the opening and took it. After all, basic shield charms used in duelling couldn't block physical assault, now could it?

So he tackled her to the ground. "You fucking bitch!" Harry heard himself yell this and felt the words leave his mouth, but he didn't really think about it. He just attacked her, and got thrown off with a simple _Bombarda_ for the effort. He must have flown a good ten feet into the air, and he landed in the couch cluster nearest where Kyouya was restraining Hermione. The couch he landed on broke for the effort, and he was pretty sure his wand arm did too if the pain and loud _crack_ were an indication.

He staggered to his feet, keeping his arm close even though he knew that left-handed casting would be awful. He still brought up his weaker arm and tried to continue the fight. His eyes were blurry with tears and dust from the debris. A cutting curse came his way, at decapitation level, and Harry wasn't going to be fast enough with his shield charm to catch it so he raised his arm in the way instead.

When he felt the curse slice all the way to the bone, though not through it, thankfully, Harry knew that he was done with the fight. He'd fall unconscious in a minute or two, and it would hart too much to stretch the skin for any wand movements.

When he heard the thump of a body hitting marble, he assumed he had collapsed, until he realized that he feet were still firmly planted on the ground, and that he could see not Bellatrix around his arm, but a certain second year university student. Said student stood in what Harry thought was some sort of kendo pose, which his still-sheathed sword held out before him, and Bellatrix collapsed on the ground.

Harry didn't take much longer to collapse. Neville had the same level of healer training as him and could perform first aid before getting him to a hospital, and Hermione could explain what in the name of Merlin's ingrown toenail had just happened, as well as calling the aurors.

Right now, Harry just needed to _cry_ and _not think_.

* * *

Hermione laid back on the bed in the guest room she was occupying in the Ootori Mansion. Exhausting... that was the only way she could describe the day. Getting a tour from René hadn't been too bad, since they were driven everywhere and had a fun time just seeing things. Even visiting the Host Club at Ouran hadn't been too bad, excluding the little incident known as "being seen in the tiny costume". She'd been seen less clad before, but it was still rather awkward. On the bright side, it seemed that only Harry and Kyouya had been looking her way during that.

No, the real issue was Bellatrix attacking them after the Club had ended for the day. Even under the best circumstances that would be a catastrophe, but it was a complete disaster. Was there a worse way to reveal magic to muggles than that? First Hermione was tortured in front of them - the first piece of magic the Hosts had ever seen - and then Harry, Neville, and Bellatrix got into a duel that ended with a lot of destroyed furniture, exploded walls, shattered tiles, Harry with one broken arm, severe bleeding, a scraped radius, and Bellatrix concussed from Takashi hitting her with his costume sword.

The entire time, for the whole two or three minutes it lasted, Hermione had been shaking from the cruciatus exposure. She had never been hit with it before - unlike Harry - and the fact that her nerves were fried from the five seconds of pain signals that came from each and every one had her shaking. Her limbs were jerky, and even though she tried to get up and help her friends, Kyouya was either working on auto pilot or he knew that it was a bad idea.

Either way, being clutched in his arms like a lifeline was... well, disconcerting to be honest. Kyouya hadn't struck her as the tactile sort, and he still didn't.

After Hermione had managed to rip herself out of Kyouya's grip - which might have had something to do with the deceptively strong boy releasing her so he could make sure Harry was okay - she immediately summoned Harry's first aid pack from his things and handed it to Neville. The cell phone that Harry had bought her for the trip was out quickly and she dialed 110 to get the police and asked for aurors. Most of the Hosts still seemed rather shocked from the battle, but René, Kyouya, Takashi, and Haruhi were all clustered around Harry's fallen form as Neville worked on first aid.

Bellatrix was quickly bound in ropes, her wand taken captive, and then stunned for good measure. It wasn't until Hermione was casting _Reparo_ on whatever could be fixed that any attention was drawn to her. It was probably due to dust particles reassembling into a chunk of floor, or maybe that the couch Harry crashed into was no longer shattered.

So, when Neville apparated to the nearest magical hospital with Harry in tow, Hermione found herself alone with twelve very confused people who very much wanted answers.

Still shaking, Hermione sat on the just-reformed couch and explained magic. She didn't hold back much, explaining every common branch of magic, some basics of magical history - including Harry's part in it, because if she didn't and they found out (which they would, there was no doubt) then the fallout would be worse - and what had just happened. Her audience was receptive, despite the rude introduction.

"It certainly explains a lot," Kyouya had mused aloud. "Like Harry's cooking and you getting a book from my room."

Hermione, of course, had been a bit confused. "Harry cooks the muggle way, no magic involved," she explained quickly, "and I honestly have no idea what you mean about getting a book from your room. I haven't even been in the wing where your family all have your rooms, except to go to the living room. Anyway, until today, none of us have used magic while we were in Japan. It's supposed to be a muggle vacation."

Now, at almost midnight, Hermione was lying on her bed, exhausted and worried. Harry was "completely" healed, but his mental progress had completely gone back to the beginning. He was closed off and smiling smiles that barely even reached his mouth, let alone his eyes. When he and Neville had returned with Harry's arm in a sling for all of ten minutes while the bones finished setting and sewing, they had brought a potion to relieve her of Cruciatus stress too, which should have made her not care about _anything_, really, but she was still worried.

The fact that, when the aurors had called about an hour ago, it had been divulged that Bellatrix had been tracking their wands and had latched onto the first spell cast - Hermione transfiguring the green "garments" into the white uniform - made Hermione feel all the worse. After all, more Death Eaters could be doing the same thing, couldn't they?

She tried to close out the voices she heard through the walls, but she wasn't going to use her wand to do so, so it was impossible.

It had been "decided" that the Hosts were sleeping over at Kyouya's for the night so they could badger Neville and Hermione for additional information on magic, keep an eye on Harry, and pillage the small stock of magical objects each of the three magical people had to see what they did. Hermione had sacrificed a history text that she had found last week and some candies, Neville lost his Wheezes that he brought along, and Harry set out a photo album, the Hungarian Horntail statuette that he received in the Triwizard Tournament, and a set of Ginori (3) nose-biting tea cups. The Hosts were all congregated in René's room (by this point, it was apparently actually called "Tamaki's Room" by the entire Ootori family) which was right next to the room Hermione was staying in.

Either way, the walls weren't thick enough to block out the sounds of ten excited teenagers - all of the Hosts excepting Kyouya - as they fawned over the enchanted objects. She heard every surprised noise of appreciation that was eschewed over the moving photographs, the guffaws spawned by the usage of some Wheezes (and the indignant squawks of the victims), and every "gack!" caused by someone being bitten by their teacup or the tiny dragon.

Of course, Hermione didn't hear so much as a grunt from Takashi, though she knew he was there and awake since Mitsukuni often addressed him with questions that either went unanswered or were replied to with a glance. Hermione knew for a fact that the oldest of the Hosts was reading the history text she had laid out; the glint in his eye from when she had handed it over for perusal made it obvious that he was very interested. Maybe he liked to read like she did, or maybe he was a history nut, but it was obvious that he only had eyes for that book.

"Takashi -" _Speak of the devil_, Hermione thought as Mitsukuni's voice pierced the wall. "- what are you reading about?"

"Magical secrecy," the answer was succinct. Of course, the other Hosts were curious and asked what that was. There was a moment's pause, and then Mitsukuni started to speak; presumably, Takashi had handed over the book and indicated the section. He wasn't the talkative type.

"Ever since the inception of the Statute of Secrecy," Mitsukuni began, his voice suddenly losing the childish lilt as he read aloud from the text, "magical people have tried to find reliable ways to prevent muggles from finding out about the magical world. Many magical things are hidden right under the muggles' noses; businesses operate in both worlds, families live in muggle towns, and every major city has its own magical district in which wizards and witches may do their shopping in an environment that better caters to their needs. Discrepencies need to be hidden from the ever-observant muggles who, while they may pass off certain events as 'tricks of the eye,' aren't about to dismiss seeing a chair turn into a pig.

"This problem was solved in 1723 by an American wizard living in a puritan town who was to be killed for practicing witchcraft. He had three days in a cell to find out a way to save himself - this, of course, was before the invention of Apparation in 1769 - and came up with a spell that is currently the cornerstone of magical secrecy. The Memory Charm.

"Its uses throughout the past few centuries are innumerable, including the editing of memories of thousands of muggles after the attack on Pearl Harbor by various magical creatures, and the complete wiping of memories from..." Mitsukuni stopped. "Wiping memories? They have a charm to make you forget things?"

In her head, Hermione was already reciting the rest of the chapter. About how it had been recently discovered that the Memory Charm actually damaged neural pathways in muggles - who, unlike wizards, did not have magic to subconsciously fix their brains - to the point where it could cause a disease known as Alzheimer's. It talked about various points in history where the charm was used, times when it was improved upon. The point of that chapter was to talk about a Dark Lord from the early 1900s who used the charm on muggles in Eastern Europe to create his own personal army, which was what started the first World War.

"But that's awful!" This was Takashi's younger brother, Satoshi. "I mean, forcing someone to forget? That's..." He trailed off, though Hermione couldn't say why.

"It can be necessary," Takashi's voice rumbled through the walls. An indication from his older brother would have made Satoshi stop talking. "If someone didn't take well to finding out about magic, " he had obviously already read the chapter about muggle-wizard relations, "or if they experienced a traumatic event, wouldn't forgetting be better?"

The other side of the wall was silent, and Hermione slowly eased off her bed, ready to avert and misconceptions. Harry was having some late-night tea with Kyouya, and Neville's room was two doors down so he wasn't about to hear the teens and come explain. She opened the door and went out into the hall. Just as her hand poised to knock on the door, talking resumed. It irked her slightly to note that there was better sound-proofing in the halls than her room. Had Kyouya done this to torture her?

"If they have spells that are used for wiping memories, and they could use it on trauma victims... why wasn't it used on Harry after his ordeal?" René asked the room. "He's been scarred for life by it, but-"

"No." Hermione forwent knocked altogether and simply opened the door, not wanting the Hosts to get it into their heads that such a thing might actually be okay. "René, that is _not_ how the charm is to be used, under any circumstances. Some traumas are better to forget - like rape or something along those lines - but it wouldn't be good at all for Harry's situation." She glared down the half-Frenchman before he could protest. "Imagine if Haruhi died, and you saw her die. But your memory was erased and all you know is that she died and you don't know how or why or who did it, you just know that she is dead. Which would you prefer, to remember or not?"

"I wouldn't want to forget anything about Haruhi!" René barked out, as if the mere idea was too horrid to contemplate. Which, really, it was. The Hosts hadn't lived through years of terror and war like the wizarding world had, and while Hermione had never been in the thick of it, she knew what happened in war.

"And Harry wouldn't want to forget anything about Charlie," Hermione finished. "He will heal with time; it hasn't even been a month since Charlie died, and Harry's doing magnificently well, all things considered. He's trying to heal, and - and hell, he _laughed_ today! He laughed and he _meant_ it. We can't force him to heal, anymore than anyone could force you to heal if Haruhi died." The witch stepped off of her imaginary soapbox and sighed. "It'll happen, but that was an important chapter in Harry's life. If he forgot, his whole personality would change and he wouldn't understand a lot of things. He'd get angry at us - he's already mad at me, I think, for coming along with him on this trip - and it's better to let him think things through."

The assembled Hosts - or some of them anyway - shuffled anxiously in their seats.

Then Hermione realized that she was in a room full of boys - not weird given her best friends were male - who were all wearing pajamas, most of them without tops. That was a bit weird for her since the only male chests she'd ever seen were of previous boy friends or at a pool... and none were as attractive as the Hosts. A slight blush rose to Hermione's cheeks as she realized this, but only slight.

"I'm... going to go back to my room now," Hermione said after a moment of silence. "See you all in the morning. Any new questions can be answered then. Night!" She exited the room quickly and hid in her assigned room.

That was... embarrassing. A little. But at least she got her message across.

"Taka-nii," Satoshi's voice sounded through the wall, "does that mean you're going to give up on Harry-kun?"

"Uun," Takashi grunted in the negative, and Hermione sighed.

Apparently her message didn't get across as she thought, or perhaps Morinozuka Takashi was simply a persistent person. The fact that he was apparently interested in Harry was only a minor surprise - Harry certainly drew attention, and somehow the second year university student didn't strike her as the type of guy who would date a girl (not that he seemed homosexual, just that he didn't seem interested in women) - but she was vaguely annoyed. Charlie hadn't been dead for a month, and it was like people expected Harry to be over his most serious boyfriend to date. While Hermione was ecstatic at any hint that he was recovering... that was different.

Well, if Takashi did anything to draw the young wizard's ire, he'd probably deserve it.

_(To be continued...)_

**Author's Note: I wonder if anyone has figured out my plot yet? This isn't just a hurt/comfort and romance fic. There's actual plot to it! Which, if one reads Part 2 carefully, they can probably figure out. But I already said all this last chapter...**

**Mk, so I made my "occasion" for this chapter "HPatHC reaching 200,000 reads". It was at 199k when I posted Part 2, so it was at 200k within two days. I started writing this... not long afterwards (I have been kinda busy and I will be kinda busy, but for me "kinda busy" means I still have gobs more free time than most people). The occasion for Part 4... not sure yet, but it'll probably be September 1. I'm still intent on posting Part 5 (which SHOULD be the finale) on September 19. However, there might be one more interruption – probably before Part 4, if at all – to post the sequel to Savior and First Crush (which should just be cute and fluffy).**

**... In my opinion, there's something weird going on when a collection of one-shots achieves 100 reviews. Not that I don't love it – because I really and honestly do – but when I noticed I choked on my drink -^_^-**

(1) The costumes have a Bleach theme. Why? Because I finally read Bleach and I felt like it. So nyaa. Anyway, Harry's costume is Ulquiorra (the following is the list of everyone else's costumes, in order of appearance, though some are not mentioned. Not that this will make sense to anyone who doesn't know Bleach): Kyouya as Uryuu, Hikaru as Kaien, Kaoru as Ichigo (because they look so much alike), Hermione as Nel (adult form), Tamaki as Shunsui, Haruhi as Rukia, Takashi as Kenpachi, Hani as Yachiru, Usa-chan as Kon, Neville as Grimmjow, Hiroshi as Hitsugaya (voted most popular in recent polls), Hideki as Shuhei, Yasuchika as Kira, Satoshi as Kensei, and Ryuu as Ayasegawa. So Hosts are all Shinigami or at least good guys, and the Brits are Espada.

(2) It was mentioned in the previous chapter that Hani has requested to go by his given name – or at least a form of it – now that he's in college. Other names that might be used include Mitsu-kun and Kuni-kun/chan, but I might not use them. Who knows?

(3) I think this is a brand of very expensive tea cups that are mentioned in the manga... but it's cold (yay!) so I don't wanna check.


	10. A Slight Alteration Part 4

Warnings: Pre-Slash, very AU, spoilers for Harry Potter books and Ouran manga, mentioned character death, coarse language, author note is full of excuses, finally complete

Disclaimers: Harry Potter belongs to JKR and associates, of which I am not one. Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Bisuko Hatori and associates, of which I am not one. I do not own the characters or settings in this story (but the situation is made-up by me). Set as an AU of HPatHC (it'll make sense as you read more).

Featuring: LovedButKindaEmo!Harry, SlightlyLessEvil!Kyouya, Hyperactive!Tamaki, Alive!Lily, and others

A Slight Alteration Part 4

Harry gritted his teeth against the pain and breathed in, then out, slowly. His thought pattern was mostly "ow fuck ow fuck ow fuck", but some variation snuck in (such as "fuck ow fuck ow fuck ow") from time to time. Wasn't he supposed to be past this? He was sure he was, but...

Hissing something that might have been parseltongue – he couldn't be arsed to notice – Harry sat up from bed clutching his forehead in agony. Voldemort was dead! Plenty of specialists had confirmed it, so why was his scar suddenly hurting again? Wasn't it supposed to be an alarm for Voldemort's proximity and mood? But no, Harry's scar was stinging, so something had to be up.

Now very agitated, Harry stumbled out of bed and searched through his first-aid kit for a headache relieving potion. They weren't perfect for curse-scar flares, but they did _something_ at least, which was considerably better than nothing, or so he liked to think. Just as he found the potion that was the proper shade of do-not-ingest-this orange, the pain suddenly died.

Unfortunately, it was four am. He'd gone to bed at about one, because Neville had discovered the wonders of muggle video games and purchased a rather innocent dating sim – innocent in that it was ecchi but didn't include sex or anything more than kissing unlike most of the ones Harry had heard about – and kept asking Harry for advice on how to woo the girl despite Harry having never seriously dated anything on fewer than three legs (1).

Likewise, Hermione and Kyouya had been in some heated debate, about the morality of certain medical techniques (three guesses which side of the debate Hermione was on, and the first two don't count), which apparently ran extra late because at around two-thirty am Harry had to leave his room, throw silencing charms at them both, and tell them to go to bed before he hexed them.

Having been in the middle of a _very_ good dream, the sort that leaves beds sticky, and pertaining to a certain someone he didn't want to have a crush on, he found himself very awake. And let's not forget the fact that _pain_ was very good for waking someone up properly.

_Some birthday_, Harry grumbled internally. He'd drunk a glass of milk at midnight in honor of his newfound adulthood. Back in Britain, he would now be able to buy liquor at the store instead of just at a restaurant (2), and here he was just eighteen. _But I'm heading home at the end of summer_.

Despite the intent to reassure himself, the thought didn't make him terribly happy. Home also meant publicity and reporters and people shoving underwear in his pockets while he was on his way to the bank, which wasn't a terribly pleasant prospect to be honest. Especially when the "sexy underwear" was large enough to fit Professor Slughorn!

Shuddering at that thought – one should never include "sexy" or "underwear" in the same sentence as Slughorn – Harry pulled on a pajama top and left his room. The house was quiet, and would be for at least an hour before Ootori Yoshio and the elder Ootori sons (whose names Harry could never be arsed to learn because they were berks) got up for work. Neville had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room that had been usurped for his nefarious plot to woo "Midori-chan" and get her to go on a date with his character, Ken. Harry had told him that Machiko would be easier, or Ruri, but Neville said Ken wasn't interested in easy girls and kept on at it.

With the volume turned way down, Harry started a new game simply because he had nothing else to do and wouldn't be able to sleep. In the space of two hours he managed to get further with Chikako, the hardest girl in the game to please, according to the information booklet, than Neville did with "Midori-chan" after playing from six to... however late he ended up staying up.

When the game told him that he had won after Chikako said she was in love with Ken, Harry turned the system off and stared at a wall for a while, sighed, and returned to his room to change into real clothes. Just jeans and a t-shirt – designer of course – and set aside some leather-soled boots he'd been given by Charlie two months before... Harry stopped his mind, rewound, and realized he'd managed to think Charlie's name without being overwhelmed.

He frowned pensively. He was getting over Charlie far too quickly. Or was he? His policy was to mourn until he felt better and until he could move on with life – though a bit of his heart would be forever be dedicated to Charlie, just as a part was dedicated to Cedric – but it had taken him four months after Cedric's death before he was feeling at all himself again.

He had been in love with Charlie, there was no question about that. But... Harry sighed and picked up the boots, carrying them with him to the entryway of the house, where he set them next to the shoe cupboard. He had already made plans to hang out with René up until lunch, since René had things to do in the afternoon and wouldn't be able to celebrate Harry's birthday at that point.

Deciding that it was okay to leave early, Harry sent an SMS to Kyouya's phone explaining that he wasn't running away and he'd be back after lunch so there was no use in letting Hermione and Neville fret while he was out. Boots on and tied and his phone off in his pocket, Harry walked off the Ootori property, waving pleasantly to the security officer patrolling the garden as he did so. After walking far enough that he knew not even someone as paranoid as Kyouya would have cameras set up, he turned on a heal and apparated to approximately one mile away from the First Suou Mansion.

Getting in was a bit difficult, but Harry knew what to expect. Even a year after entering the mansion, René had complained several times about how strict his grandmother was. Not so strict as to restrain René from doing what he wanted – including taking literature as his minor and remaining active in the Host Club – but she ran a tight ship.

"Who is it?" Harry wasn't surprised that the guard was out of sight and said this before Harry actually reached the intercom button.

"Potter Harry, I'm here to see Re- er, Tamaki-sama," Harry corrected himself before he finished the name. While the Hosts were now accustomed to Harry addressing René by his first name, it was not what anyone else in Japan called him. "I'm a bit early..." If an hour was considered a bit.

"One moment." The line went dead and Harry waited patiently, scanning the grounds through the fence, catching sight of what might be the security office, since it was a rather bland looking building. "Go on." The gate opened without prompting, and Harry walked through. He was met by a guard who escorted him to the mansion. The grounds put even those at Kyouya's to shame, though Harry couldn't help but think that his mother's garden was better, and Neville's beat that by leaps and bounds.

Inside the mansion, Harry was escorted to a very stiff sitting room, where he spent two minutes waiting by trying to estimate how many tatami would fit there, since it was a Western style room. Apparently it was only two minutes for René to run full tilt through the mansion in his pajamas and, due to slipper-clad feet, catch Harry completely unaware before shouting "Harry!" and tackling the wizard to the ground.

"René, give some warning sometime!" Harry groaned. That _hurt_.

Completely unrepentant, René just grinned down at Harry from where he was straddling the younger teen's knees and crowed, "Happy birthday!"

A smile twitched into place on Harry's face, an expression that was becoming more common lately. Really, Japan was good for him. "Well, thanks for that, though Neville beat you to the position of 'first to wish me a happy birthday,'" Harry tried his best not to wince. Seriously, being tackled like that could not be good for his back. Suddenly, he felt sorry for Kyouya, since René was generally just as enthusiastic to greet him, though he also felt some sympathy for his friends since he was normally rather enthusiastic in his greetings.

Except lately, but Harry figured that when he got back as close to normal as he could after seeing the torture and murder of Charlie first hand, he would regain some modicum of enthusiasm.

… He was being far too optimistic, all things considered.

"That doesn't matter," René shrugged with a grin and sat back on Harry's heels, his butt resting again the tops of Harry's feet and his knees still level with the wizards. "I have you all to myself for the morning!"

"So Haruhi isn't joining us?" Nothing had been said of the matter, but Harry had assumed that René would include his girlfriend in whatever they were doing for the morning.

"Non, she's busy and I haven't had you to myself since we were children," René grinned more and them stood up, lending Harry a hand before dusting himself off. "I need to shower and dress for the day. You can wait in my room."

Harry was only halfway through dusting himself off when René grabbed his arm at the elbow and was dragging him along.

_So much for his grandmother being strict_, Harry sighed mentally, but he followed along behind his friend regardless as soon as he got his feet properly under him. As soon as he got to that point, it wasn't at all hard; unlike most wizards, Harry actually bothered to keep fit the muggle way, and the easiest way for him was running. He was good at running, so long as it wasn't from a fight.

The Suou mansion was truly beautiful, and even though Harry was just seeing things whoosh by, he could appreciate it. Soon, he was sequestered in René's room and given freedom to poke around while René got prepared for the day. The wizard had thought to content himself with just looking at things, but René took a long time to get ready.

It was only after Harry had turned three suits to rather stunning shades of purple that would do Dumbledore proud that the half-Frenchman returned, properly coifed.

Tropical Land was, apparently, the stop of the day, and Harry got to experience the amusement park for the first time. He had been to Disney World before, in Japan, Europe, and the States before, but Tropical Land was new to him, so it made for a fun day out.

"I'm glad," René chuckled when Harry intimated this. "I was afraid you would hate it." The reason of why Harry would hate it went unsaid, and instead René dragged Harry to a game booth where stuffed penguins were the main prize; he tried to win one "because it reminded him of Haruhi" (3) and, in the end, Harry took the toy gun from his friend, shot the bull's eye, and collected the penguin.

They left the park around eleven thirty and went to a conveyor belt sushi place, where Harry had fun picking dishes as they passed even though Sirius had dragged him to such places during their previous visit. Well, watching René was just as entertaining as Sirius in this instance, and so Harry found himself having a good time.

"Happy Birthday," René said again as they pulled up in front of the Ootori mansion. "I'll see you soon, alright?"

"Of course," Harry affirmed. He stepped out of the Rolls Royce and made his way back into the Ootori mansion, ready to change again (someone had spilled soda on his leg when he got off a roller coaster, and drying spells didn't get out orange stains).

The walk was quick and quiet; he surmised Neville was still asleep since he wasn't in the gardens, and judging by the fact that Hermione wasn't in the front lounge reading or anything, it was likely that she had gone out for a while, thinking Harry wouldn't be back for a few more hours.

"SURPRISE!" The lights flicked on as Harry was passing through the previously unlit ballroom on the way to the private areas of the house, and Harry found he wasn't too surprised.

Apparently René had just been keeping him busy that morning.

"Afternoon," Harry greeted, showing just how unsurprised he was. Well, no, he _was_ surprised since he hadn't expected to be ambushed, for René to have beaten him here, or for his family to be present, but he wasn't startled or shocked. That seemed a fairer evaluation of the situation to him, and he settled on a suitably amused expression, since that was the most prominent emotion.

There was a bit of sadness that Charlie wasn't there, but it wasn't the stab that would have practically gutted him even so much as a week ago. There was also a bit of curiosity regarding the presence of Kingsley Shacklebolt – he had heard from Sirius that the interim Minister was flirting with his mother, but to see just how far that had progressed was a bit of a shock – and that of three Japanese adults who looked to be in their early forties.

"Happy birthday," Lily beamed at her son, her vivid emerald eyes meeting those of the exact same hue. She seemed to be searching him for something with that gaze, and upon finding it she relaxed; Harry chalked it up to a mom-thing. "And to think, it feels like-"

"Just yesterday that you were telling Sirius I was too small to ride around on his back," Harry recited from memory. It was a phrase his mom often used, though not in the way that most parents would since it was more to poke fun at him than to actually reminisce. Being only thirty-eight years old, quite young for having an eighteen year old son, she wasn't quite so sentimental, though empty-nest-syndrome was probably going to hit sometime after Harry started taking over more and more work with the Company.

"I was going to say that just yesterday it felt like July twenty-ninth," the redheaded woman smirked, "but that works too." Time zone jokes were never funny.

Harry exchanged greetings with the rest of the party guests, most of whom were members of the Host Club. Haruhi introduced him to the three mystery guests, who were apparently her parents. The woman of average height was Haruhi's mother, a prominent lawyer, who had brought her second husband along (their son was on a play date), who was the owner of a furniture boutique.

Before Harry could be introduced to the second woman – Haruhi's aunt maybe? – Sirius sauntered over.

"Hey good-lookin'," the canine animagus winked saucily at the woman, eyeing her figure up and down. "What's shaking?"

"I thought the line was 'what's cooking'?" One finely arched eyebrow was raised and crimson lips drew into a smirk.

"Yeah, but it's so… old-fashioned," Sirius waved it off. "Care to hook up sometime?" He had his best roguish grin on, the kind Harry recalled since childhood when Sirius had been known to use him to "pick up chicks" from time to time (usually, Harry got to go to the farm store and play with the newly-hatched chicks at these times). Despite being in his late thirties, it still had a certain effect on women.

"I dunno," the reply was flippant and only accentuated by the woman flicking her thick auburn hair over one shoulder. "Think you can handle me?" Sirius only grinned devilishly, but didn't get the chance to reply properly.

"Dad! Can you _not_ hit on Harry's godfather when I'm trying to do introductions?" Haruhi looked a little miffed, and Harry was more than a little baffled. Dad? That was a _guy?!_ "Gods, you can be so embarrassing sometimes!"

"But Haruhi~," the not-actually-a-woman pouted and wrapped his(?) arms around his(?) daughter's shoulders, "I can't help it! And I don't stop you from flirting with Tamaki…" Haruhi went crimson and grumbled something that sounded like "not anymore."

"You're a man?" Sirius raised one eyebrow and looked the not-a-woman up and down again, this time slower.

Shiftily, the apparent-man replied, "Yeah." Slowly, unsure.

Sirius' face lit up. "Wonderful! So, wanna get dinner on Wednesday?" Harry rolled his eyes at his father's antics as the man (who demurely introduced himself to Sirius as "Fujioka Ryoji, but you can call me Ranka if you like") exchanged information with Sirius for a date.

Deciding to give up on his godfather for the moment, Harry gave his goodbyes to Matsuda Kotoko (Haruhi's mother) and Matsuda Kano (Haruhi's stepfather who was an oyabaka on par with Ranka) before making his way back to his mother and Kingsley. He'd never gotten to know the man all that well and figured that if his mother was dating the guy then they should get to know one another.

The Boy-Who-Lived, Vanquisher-of-You-Know-Who, stopped in place roughly five steps from where his mother was seated demurely with a slice of cake, gesticulating in the air with a fork. It wasn't because of what she was talking about, it was just the differences between muggle and magical geography, but rather who she was giving a miniature lecture to. Morinozuka Takashi was seated on a chair nearby and listening with rapt attention.

Of _course_ Harry's mother would make nice with the guy Harry was furiously trying to not have a crush on, and of course they would somehow get into an engaging conversation. By the end of it, Takashi even had a list of books that Lily wanted Harry to pick up for him so that the subject could be better studied.

But it was a good birthday, and even though Harry tried not to, he liked that his mother liked Takashi.

* * *

"Alright, put down your pencils, the test is over!"

Grateful, Takashi set down the pencil on his desk and used one hand to press on his head and crack his neck. His test was passed down the row, where one of the graduate students would come collect it, and the heir to the Morinozuka name had no problems with collecting his things (really just his bag) and leaving the classroom.

A history major had been set in Takashi's head for years, and his course selection showed it. The only classes he took that were not related to history or geography were those that were absolutely required – namely literature, calculus, and a course on advanced kanji – and even those he only had once a week. After this year he wouldn't even need to take those if he didn't want to, though he knew he'd sign up for economics anyway. He would be starting on law soon too, so he would be able to help Mitsukuni in starting up the toy department of the Haninozuka Group.

_And maybe that will mean I'll deal more with Harry_, thought the martial artist to himself, though his expression didn't change at the complete one-eighty his thoughts had taken. The Morinozuka family only dealt with one aspect of the Potter Company after all – their publication company – but the toy division of the Potter company would undoubtedly have dealings with Mitsukuni's new division.

Lately, a lot of thoughts had been leading to one Potter Harry. When Takashi had first met him a year and a half ago (give or take a few months), he had been impressed with the personable, down-to-earth boy who took pride in his family's company without being arrogant. He'd noticed the teen's lithe body and attractive features of course, but during the New Year's event it had been Harry's personality that drew his attention. There was attraction, but nothing overwhelming.

Then, broken, Harry had come to Japan once more, and Takashi was drawn in again. Not because he had a thing for the kicked puppy look, and not even because he wanted to help. Well, he did want to help, but that wasn't what drew him in. Harry had obviously undergone some trial since their last encounter – what, exactly, was not learned until a few days later – and he was actively trying to heal in a healthy manner.

Harry was... mature. Energetic when he wasn't emotionally wounded, but he was mature and thoughtful and Takashi could not deny that he had a crush on Harry. They hadn't spent much time together, which was understandable – according to Tamaki, the crush was reciprocated, and Harry was afraid that if he allowed himself to get to know Takashi very well, he'd land himself with another dead boyfriend – but there was still that little crush just sitting, simmering, waiting either to grow as he spent more time with Harry or die off into a "what if?" when Harry left to go back to the UK.

Of course, as days passed, the latter seemed more and more likely. After Harry's birthday, the wizard had been rather... scarce. He had shown his mother around Tokyo a bit the first couple of days, a "family only" thing where he simultaneously had some family time and got to know his mother's new beau. Potter Lily had to return home after only three days in Japan though, because of business – Shacklebolt because taking _any _vacation time when he was interim minister, even if he was building "political ties abroad" was a risky business – and even though Lord Black stayed around for an extra week before promising to make plans to return (he had a date to keep after all), Harry just sort of... vanished.

Not to say he'd stopped staying at Kyouya's or anything. But he woke before anyone else, left right after breakfast, alone as was noted by everyone, and didn't arrive back to the mansion until well after dinner was over. Takashi had seen Harry only once in the past two weeks, and no one could attest to seeing him much more than that unless they were staying in the same domicile. Even Tamaki had only seen Harry thrice!

Takashi's vaguely frustrated musings were broken by his phone buzzing. He held it up to his ear and didn't bother making any noise to confirm that, yes, he had picked up the phone, because he knew who was on the other end.

"Hi Mori-senpai!" It was Tamaki. Tamaki was the only one that Takashi had given a regular buzz to as a ring tone since he couldn't really think of anything and Tamaki didn't enforce a specific ringtone like Mitsukuni with his cake song. "It's the king! You didn't reply to my SMS message earlier, so I wasn't sure if you got it. Club is cancelled for today because Hikaru and Kaoru have a fashion show and Yasuchika said he has a martial arts demonstration which means that your brother is going too, and Mitsukuni-senpai said he had a date with Reiko-san."

"Aa," Takashi intoned. It was a good all-around answer, just a plain "yes". Yes he got the message, he just hadn't wanted to reply in the middle of class. Yes, he was aware of the fashion show, as he'd been invited to attend, but he wasn't going to since Kaoru had actually said it was a "courtesy invite" that people were supposed to say they were too busy for on such short notice or something like that. Yes, of course he knew about the demo, since it happened every year. And yes, he did know about Mitsukuni's date; who else would have sat up 'til all hours with the hyperactive college student trying to think of the best place to take the slightly-creepy girl for the date?

"Okay, well, just making sure you were aware!" Tamaki was chipper, though there was an undertone of concern not directed at Takashi. It was expected since Tamaki was a bonafide worrywart, and Harry was currently the subject of that and had been for a good while now. "Have a good day and I'll see you tomorrow! Oh, and I hope you did well on your test today!"

Takashi was tempted to tell Tamaki to say hi to Haruhi for him, but Tamaki still had one more class for the day, since it was a Thursday, and would forget by the time he saw Haruhi anyway, assuming that they would be together that day. And, really, if Takashi wanted to correspond with Haruhi, he could send her an SMS.

The sleek green phone was slipped easily into his pocket and Takashi exited the Ouran University grounds. He hadn't anticipated there being no club until he received the SMS, and he usually walked to the Host Club after school, so there was no car waiting for him. He wasn't terribly interested in calling for a car either, and it had been a while since he had just walked around Tokyo. Plus, it was around four, and he had worked through lunch on an essay after noticing a typo.

Food sounded good.

Properly decided on that, Takashi opted to mill around, find a restaurant that struck his fancy – nothing high end since he wanted to eat something filling that wouldn't take an hour to get to his table – and eventually eat. Preferably sooner rather than later.

"I _told_ you already, I don't sign autographs as a matter of policy, it's nothing personal!" A rather snappish tenor lashed out in a frustrated manner; Takashi recognized the voice easily despite limited contact. He'd found Harry, it seemed. "I've really got nothing against you, it's just that if I signed things willy nilly I could get into some contracts I don't want, you understand?"

"It's not 'willy nilly' if it's just my chest, now is it?" That voice was male, and now Takashi was facing the proper direction, he could tell that it was a young man of Anglo-Saxon origins who was brandishing a sharpie at Harry and baring his chest.

"Look, I'm flattered, really, but I already had one person tattoo my signature and..." Harry stopped himself and, from the looks of things, was counting down from ten. "Right. Look. It's not personal, it's policy. My publicist –"

"What's your publicist know, anyway?" scoffed the apparent fan. "All I want is-" He broke off.

It was understandable. Most people would if Takashi grabbed their shoulder and turned them around rather forcibly. Really it was just logic.

"Go away." It was simple, quiet, and very straight forward. The man blanched and left, muttering something about body guards, and Takashi felt glad. Okay, so his only relation to Harry was Unofficial Bodyguard, but it was a bit closer than Acquaintance.

For his part, Harry wasn't too impressed, though he did look relieved. "Er... thanks," he shifted his feet a little. "He was really getting on my nerves..."

"Welcome," Takashi shrugged. It really hadn't been any effort, it was no big deal, and seeing that Harry wasn't being harassed (sexually? Or was that guy just a regular fan?) was a good thing. "Join me for lunch?"

Wait, where had that come from? Takashi didn't really think about it, but he supposed he'd been mulling the idea over somewhere in the back of his head without realizing it, and it was only polite. There were no ulterior motives here. Even though Harry was afraid, Takashi wanted to at least be a step above "random guy Harry kinda knows", and this might as well be a good opportunity for that. Even without the crush-like thing, Takashi found Harry to be an admirable person and if they could become acquainted well enough to be penpals, the martial artist would be well pleased.

Surprisingly, Harry didn't flat out refuse. "Lunch? At four pm?" He looked a little incredulous, but more amused than anything. "Alright, I suppose so. Where were you headed?" Takashi shrugged to indicate that he was meandering, and then recalled that Mitsukuni wasn't around to act as interpreter for his language of subtle movements. "Oh, okay... well, there's a good ramen place nearby; I found it a week ago, and they have the best miso in this part of town. Their salt ramen isn't half bad either."

Apparently, today, Takashi didn't need an interpreter. He nodded to show his assent; he knew the place Harry was talking about, assuming it was where he thought it was. Satoshi had a thing for ramen, and Takashi liked it too, so they frequented a place only a few blocks over. It was fairly large for a ramen shop, but only about the size of a conveyor belt sushi restaurant.

So Harry led him in what was, after a few blocks, undeniably the direction of the ramen shop that Takashi was thinking of. It wasn't a bad walk either; Harry seemed a lot less closed off than before – still guarded, but more open and a bit less emotional crippled – and was talking about whatever seemed to come to mind. It might have helped that, several times there were strangely dressed people, apparently wizards and witches, who seemed ready to confront Harry until they saw Takashi.

"My fans are... well, fanatics," Harry explained, slightly chagrined. "Sort of on par with an anime otaku, except instead of that fanaticism being spread through multiple genres, shows, and what have you, it's pretty much just focused on me. On the bright side, there is only a small percentage of wizards in the world, only about one or two percent of all adults – that's including squibs, half-breeds, and muggles with high affinities for magical arts mind you – and only about a third of them actually give a shit. One eighth of those wizards are actual fans and not just well-wishers and grateful. Only maybe one in a hundred of _those_ wizards would just so happen to be in Asia, let alone Japan or Tokyo or in the same _part_ of Tokyo as we are at the moment."

"And yet they find you," Takashi intoned, and Harry nodded.

"And yet they find me. I know there aren't any tracking charms on me, but it's amazing, really. No one has bothered to go to the press about it – whether they're being sensitive or want to keep it a secret out of greed I neither know nor care – but I'm still found by at least three fans a day, more if I'm in a group," Harry shrugged his shoulders. "But what can you do?"

Lacking an answer, Takashi shrugged.

They arrived at the ramen shop – exactly the one Takashi had thought – and waved to the waitress who knew them both by name. Harry pointedly made sure they sat at the counter rather than at a table; they both ordered large miso ramen with extra broth (4), though Harry asked for extra vegetables and Takashi for no naruto.

"This isn't a date," Harry clarified as they watched their food being cooked. His brow was furrowed ever so slightly, and he was rubbing his forehead like he had a headache. "Just so you know. That's why we're sitting at the counter, because we're just here as acquaintances who want to become friends, okay?" Takashi nodded, understanding. Friends was plenty. "Good. I don't mean to be standoffish, but..." he shrugged again. "I dunno. Anyway, Kyouya and René have mentioned a lot that you do kendo, but I don't know much about it. Care to explain?"

So Takashi did. Their food was set on the counter, and they "went dutch" (5) as Harry put it. Takashi explained the point system to kendo, a little about the kata, but mostly it was the history of the art, and that extended to a history of martial arts in general, like how karate actually had a different name but changed it when the island the art was from was declared Japanese territory.

Likewise, Harry explained about his family's companies and some history on magical secrecy to explain why the Potter-Evans Medical Company marketing to muggles was, in fact, such a huge step in the reintegration of both societies.

They weren't personal topics. Yes, kendo was a big part of Takashi's life, and yes, Harry would one day control the Company, but the subjects of their lunch conversation was far from anything really personal. Still, Takashi felt he had learned something about Harry and made a step to being more important than "some guy," or any of the other Hosts whom Harry had just met in the past month and a half since coming to Japan, so it was better than nothing.

The next day, when Takashi arrived at the Host Club, Harry was present, chatting with some of the girls who were waiting for their Host of choice to be free. A cluster immediately broke off to great Takashi and Mitsukuni, who greeted them with the usual levels of enthusiasm - that is, in Takashi's case, a nod of acknowledgement, and in Mitsukuni's he was on the verge of hugging each of them.

If there was one strange thing about the Host Club, nowadays, it was that Takashi was twenty and he felt rather awkward acting as a Host to high school girls. Most of his fans were seniors, thankfully, as most of the younger girls looked to his younger brother and the trainee "strong, silent type", but there were still a few girls who were five years younger than him who had joined the Mori Fan Club. Takashi only contented himself with the knowledge that he was _gay_ and therefore it was completely innocent on his part.

Not on Hoshakuji Renge's of course, as she was still fawning over every potential yaoi couple she could get out of the Hosts even as a senior in high school, but that was just how the "Manager" of the club worked. It would probably be worse if Haruhi didn't temper her.

Though there was only an hour and a half left of Club time when the two oldest members arrived, that time flew by. One moment Takashi and Mitsukuni were sitting with their first cluster of guests, the next he was pouring tea for a different set, then cutting cake for a different set, and suddenly Kyouya was calling out the Club hours were almost over and that the girls should finish their good byes for the afternoon quickly.

The entire time, Takashi had been tracking Harry with his eyes. They were barely any closer than they had been before the late lunch/early dinner of the day before, but that seeming closeness gnawed at the kendo champion, trying to convince him that it was something, an important something.

With deliberate movements, Takashi cleared the table before him and brought the dishes to the kitchen where he set them aside for cleaning later. As the only Host who was both unafraid of cleaning dishes and capable of doing so without breaking them, it was considered Takashi's duty since hiring a cleaning service would, according to Kyouya, cut down on their Club funds, and the school's service didn't include Club affairs. Of course, it went unsaid that Kyouya was just as capable of washing dishes as Takashi.

When those same dishes were suddenly floating in the air and started cleaning themselves, Takashi decided he wasn't going to be surprised by anything anymore, even though he knew Harry was behind him and directing the dishes on what to do. So he turned around and wasn't surprised to see Harry brandishing his wand like the conductor of a concerto, his other hand waving in time.

"There's a spot of trouble," Harry explained without deviating his attention from the delicate china that was flying trough the air rather too quickly to be safe. "Nothing horrid mind you, but that bloke from yesterday, the Sharpie guy, he went to the press and now everyone thinks your my abusive secret lover who doesn't let me do anything and who I was cheating on Charlie with before he was kidnapped. Or my pimp. It depends on what magazine you pick up." His tone was flat and uncaring, mostly bored, though Takashi entertained the notion that Harry actually cared. "If I were you, I'd keep a low profile for a while, 'til it blows over, unless you want to get hit by a jelly-legs jinx - or worse."

"Aa," Takashi didn't quite agree, but he never went very high profile to begin with. He could deal with staying low profile if that was what Harry wanted.

Harry ended up finishing all the cleaning up after the Club about five minutes before Neville and Hermione apparated in; the three magical persons spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening with the Hosts, just having fun and eventually hitting a Karaoke Box for an hour where Hermione showed just how bad a singer she was, Kyouya refused to sing on the grounds that he was working on homework, and Takashi was tricked by his favorite cousin (no offense to Yasuchika) into singing some American pop song that was completely out of his vocal range in the first place.

It was worth it to see Harry fall of his chair laughing, even if everyone else did it too.

"Harry-chan, will you sing with me?" Mitsukuni had a devious glint in his eyes; he was probably intending to cute Harry into singing something embarrassing with him. Like... the Doraemon theme song or something. Takashi had been tricked into it before.

"I'd love to," Harry said with a very obvious "but..." tone to his statement. "But I have a headache right now. I'm fine just here."

Takashi mentally cataloged the symptoms he had seen of this, and wondered why it didn't occur to him before. Harry was sitting furthest from the speakers, had winced at off notes – not because they were bad, but because they were jarring – and had taken off his glasses an hour ago.

From that point, everyone sang a little softer, turned the machine a bit quieter, and chose songs that were a bit less jarring in their nature. Harry told them not to bother, but Takashi could see how much he eased up just from that little different. It was obviously a really bad headache, and he was going out of his way to play it down for everyone else's sake.

Everyone went home half an hour later; it was a week before Harry was seen again.

* * *

"Just a letter," snarled the bushy-haired witch known as Hermione Granger. "_Again_. If I didn't see his dishes in the sink each morning, I'd think he was kidnapped or something." She flopped back into a chair in the main reception room of the Hitachiin Mansion, which was the current base of actions in operation "figure out where the hell Harry's run off to this time".

The morning after karaoke, Harry hadn't been in the Ootori Mansion, which wasn't too strange, and had left a letter behind. His things were still in his room, so no one was too worried, since the letter explained he'd be back late and there was nothing to worry over.

In retrospect, they all knew they really _really_ should have worried immediately. After the second time in a row that this happened, Hermione and Neville had started to fret and asked the Hosts to keep a weather eye open in hopes of finding Harry as Takashi had before. In Kyouya's case, that meant getting some of his family's hired men to keep an eye out. For the twins, it was posting "have you seen me?" posters. Tamaki added to that by tossing up a reward.

Mitsukuni was confident that Harry could take care of himself, and if he couldn't, Takashi would find him just in time, as he always managed to do. Takashi had no such faith and spent most of free time being driven around to keep an eye out for Harry, even going out of his way to ask random people on the street if they had seen the Brit.

A week had passed, and all they had to reassure them that Harry hadn't gotten himself killed were seven letters and some dirty dishes.

"It'll be okay, Hermione," Neville tried his best to reassure her, but even he sounded unsure. "Harry's Harry, y'know? Whatever it is that he's gotten into, he can get out of just as easily."

"Even blackmail?" Hermione scowled at her friend before slumping. "Sorry. No sleep."

"It's still a valid point," Kyouya shook his head. He'd skipped school yesterday (he called in "Swine Flu" (6), so he wasn't expected in for a while yet) and hadn't gone in today either. Takashi was tempted to do the same, but he figured that Harry would be madder at him for skipping class than trying to find him and opted against it. "If Harry was blackmailed about the article from last week, he would certainly do his best to keep away from anything that might exacerbate the matter."

He pointedly did not look at Takashi, the cause of that particular matter, but everyone else _did_, which rather ruined the effect that not looking at him should have had. But the swordsman didn't flinch under the half-accusatory gazes and sat in his chair as stiffly as he had upon his arrival.

They should be out looking for Harry, not talking about looking for Harry. Takashi didn't say this, but he wanted to.

"No, it really wasn't a valid point at all," Hermione shook her head and sent a thankful glance to Kyouya, probably for trying to make her seem as smart as she usually did. Or something. Takashi didn't quite understand her. "Harry's not really susceptible to blackmail. It's been tried before; he has no problem with slapping a lawsuit on someone, even if it means airing his own wrong doings to the public. And if it were out of concern for Takashi, Harry wouldn't go about it like this. He's like a mother bear when it comes to people he cares about, whether he wants to care about them or not."

"We got another fake call right before you all got here," the twins chimed in in unison. "So far the poster plan isn't working out too well."

"I had Dad call Black-san," Haruhi added, "but he didn't know anything. Apparently Harry has been calling him every day and helping him plan a date with my dad for when he gets back in the country, nothing strange at all." She made a bit of a face, alluding to how weird the thought of her dad dating – and completely twitterpated at that – was to her even six years after her parents' divorce.

"So, no new information then?" Hermione raised one eyebrow. There was a chorus of "no" from the group and the witch rolled her eyes. "Then why did we meet at all?"

"To see if there was anything new on today's letter," responded Ryuu. He had one ankle resting on his knee and looked rather petulant for it. "It's been a week; didn't you guys say that seven was a magically important number or something like that?"

"Only in Britain; in Japan the best numbers are 4 and 9, and in China it's 8 (7)," Neville corrected. "And the only difference written in today's letter is that Harry asked me to pick up some instant ramen for him to eat when he gets home tonight."

"No hints?" Ryuu added a pout to his look, which only increased at Neville's negative response. "Whatever. I had Dad check out his connections with the Potter Company, and since Harry's keeping up with his work, I think he's just being anti-social again. I have math homework to do, so... ta." He got up and left, the rest of the younger Hosts filtering out after him, even Yasuchika (though that might be because Mitsukuni was getting ready to dig into a cake) and Satoshi.

To most everyone's surprise, Takashi stood up as well.

When asked what he was doing, Takashi pointed out that it was approaching five and he didn't have lunch because he was looking for Harry, which he would resume after getting something to eat. To him, Harry _had_ left a clue; it was just that no one else knew what it was.

By this time, Takashi was used to dodging the occasional harmless spell when he disembarked from his car while in the city. He'd taken the hit a couple times – a tickling charm had been the first, which gained him weird looks as he squirmed, and a jelly-legs jinx resulted in him going to the hospital – but he found spells very easy to dodge, especially since they had no effect on the solid surfaces they hit except for some discoloration to the paint of the car, which was easily overlooked.

This time, the dark purple light took a gouge out of the car roof.

Quite concerned, Takashi turned towards the source of the light, which happened to be the ramen shop that was Takashi's destination in the first place. The place seemed abandoned, dark beyond reason considering sunlight should be filtering through the windows, and only the occasional burst of light broke the monotony of blackness.

On one side, most were red and moved in a definite beam. A stunning spell, as Takashi had learned from the magical foreigners. On the other side, most lights were the same shade of green as Harry's eyes, and they were more spread out, like it unwound the further it got from the source.

As it just so happened, Takashi had been told quite definitely that, if he saw a spell that color, to get out of the way.

It wasn't hard to figure out who was throwing the red spells, and Takashi realized that he was lucky he hadn't arrived any later. Whether Harry had known this was going to happen or not, it really was just luck. It was not luck, however, that drove Takashi to run into the building that was currently being avoided like the plague by most pedestrians.

But the right word _did_ begin with an L.

"Avada K- fuck!" The voice was gravelly and baritone, not Harry's tenor at all, and came from where Takashi remembered the ramen shop's counter was, and a clatter explained the expletive. It was impossible to see though, as everything was just black, black, and more black. The light of spellfire failed to illuminate anything.

A muttering arose in that same gravelly baritone, and the black was suddenly swept away by a snappish wind, leaving the shop properly illuminated; the overhead lights were on still, a fire was going under each of the ramen pots. A few dead bodies were strewn around, mostly teenagers or business men getting a quick bite after work or school.

It was disgusting.

Harry seemed to have been edging his way towards the door, as he was only about six feet away from Takashi, while the other man – his appearance was deceptively meek and he had deep-set, squinty black eyes – was leaning on the shop counter, a bowl overturned on the floor and still-steaming ramen spilled on his arm and left leg. The wisps of steam only helped the image of rage that the man portrayed.

Black eyes turned on Takashi, and another expletive was uttered before the wand was pointed at him and green light was rushing. Takashi hadn't ever _heard_ a spell before, but it was, apparently, possible. He was already in the process of dodging when something far more solid than a spell hit him in the side and pushed him off his feet.

He didn't see what happened then, but it wasn't hard to figure it out. He heard rushing death and then he hit the tiled floor. Harry landed on top of him, unmoving.

Takashi didn't think. Well, he might have, but if so he didn't really know what he was thinking about, because he was busy consciously processing that Harry was dead. Harry had been hit by the Killing Curse, which killed without fail, and even though it had been for Takashi's sake it had been a useless sacrifice because Takashi would have been able to dodge it.

However, in that void of non-thought, Takashi's body was far more capable than his brain. The man – maybe he was a Death Eater, maybe he was just a man, Takashi did not and would never know – was sprawled on the floor, not dead but unconscious and sporting a broken wand-arm. His wand was snapped in half somewhere on the other side of the shop from his body, and Takashi was standing over him, breathing heavily, angrily.

Morinozuka Takashi was always very much in control, it was just something that was part of him. He did not lose control and kept himself in an iron grip. Not for an image, but because that was how he was comfortable; he'd make an exception this time.

As thoughts returned, Takashi thought immediately of Harry and how maybe three times really is the charm because as Harry had just started healing and trying not to like Takashi, _he'd_ died this time.

Then, like it was one of those bad films that Satoshi was so fond of, just as Takashi was kneeling down next to Harry's corpse, one green eye peeked open, and the wizard muttered something and... fell asleep. Unlike most people might, Takashi did not dance around happily, shout, or faint in surprise. He called for an ambulance and the cops (asking for the aurors of course), sent Harry along with the ambulance, and patiently explained what he knew to the aurors.

By the time he got to the hospital, visiting hours were over, and Harry was apparently in good health but being kept overnight just to be safe. The rest of the Hosts and Harry's friends had been by, and so Takashi had no problem going home. Well, he had several, but he could visit Harry the next day. It could wait.

Harry Potter's ringtone on Takashi's phone was a simple sonar "ping". There was no reason behind this other than the fact that it was different from everyone else's.

When Takashi picked up his cell phone, the first thing he said was that Harry shouldn't have his phone on at the hospital in case it messed with the machines, because that was what his mother had taught him once, and surely Harry of all people should know that.

"I'm going to give you a chance," said Harry's slightly-garbled voice over the phone. "I'm staying in Japan for healer training and business school. But if you die on me, I'll learn necromancy, resurrect you, kill you, resurrect you again, and keep you locked up for the rest of your unnatural life, got it?"

There are very few responses that can be made to such a statement, especially when the one saying it could definitely back up the claim.

So Takashi said "Aa."

"Good. We'll have a date... Thursday night, I think. Night." The phone clicked.

Takashi smiled.

**Author's Note: Done. Le Fin. Owarimasu. Decided to condense Parts 4 and 5 into one Part, but the first bit had to happen 'cause... well, I promised KounetsuDeb the Sirius/Ranka flirty scene (I need to write a Sirius/Ranka fic at some point...), and I had to get the Kingsley/Lily mention and show the start of Kyouya/Hermione (after a fashion... I'm always very hinty with Hermione's relationships), and blahblahblah.**

**By the way, if the plotty-bits made no sense, in chapter 2 Harry listed every horcrux that had been destroyed - the Harry Potter horcrux was not on that list. After he turned 18, it started bugging him again, and he was trying to fix that, thus the antisocialness. When the man (I was thinking maybe Avery, but decided against it, so now we'll never know who he is!) "killed" him, it got the horcrux 'cause, if we follow JKR's logic from book 7 *shudders* then it was the fact that he sacrificed himself to die or something like that. I dunno, I tried to erase that travesty to the Harry Potter series from my brain.**

**I am SO sorry this is late. I really, really am. I started on it two weeks before I was going to post... and then everything went to hell in a handbasket. My dad's best friend and the friend's fiancé (they live 8 time zones away) came to visit and as it turns out, it's impossible to explain what I'm writing and not mention that it's slash, and I can't lie to my honorary-uncle, so I couldn't work on it 'til they left... which was a couple days before school started back up, and almost a week AFTER I was going to post this. Since then I've been busy having a life (I know, it's weird), school, clubs, being a pirate, celebrating my birthday, and being a good Samaritan.**

**Yes, I am making excuses, but they are valid excuses in my opinion. Real life popped up without me realizing. Please don't complain that I've been working on another crossover since then, because even though it's true, it's different. Inspector Auror I could explain and say "well, it's a murder mystery" and it would be better accepted than having them look over my shoulder and have to reply "it's romance". Have you ever tried NOT explaining a romance story to a Frenchwoman? It's difficult.**

**In other news, I'm 18 (9-19)! I feel old D: But I bought swords and got my ears pierced, so I'm taking advantage of it I guess. Is it bad that being a senior fills me with anxiety and some fear rather than excitement or relief?**

(1) Yeah yeah, dirty comment, I know. I ran into it initially, probably through fanfic, when I was... what? 12? Something like that. If you don't get it then I probably shouldn't explain it to you.

(2) Sources I've found say that legal drinking age in Britain is 18, but in restaurants it's 16 (thus why, in book 6, it wasn't a big deal for Dumbledore and Slughorn to give mead to Harry and (in the case of the latter) Ron). If this is incorrect, please inform me and I will change it.

(3) In chapter... 44 I think (can't be arsed to remember which chapter right now; it's the Mei arc) the Hosts and Mei go to the zoo and decide that the penguins look like Haruhi. The Haruhi in this story is girlier, but I still imagine her as being penguin-ish.

(4) Harry Potter and the Host Club, Chapter 22 reference. When Harry bit through his tongue/got it healed/etc, they went to a ramen shop; it was the same one that Harry took the twins to, Satoshi took Harry too, and it was one that both Sirius and Harry, and Takashi and Satoshi frequented, so the waitress knew both Harry and Takashi by name, as well as their usual – large miso ramen with extra broth for both of them.

(5) If you aren't familiar with the phrase, a "Dutch treat" is when everyone pays for their own food.

(6) Mk, so on the HPatHC timeline, it was 2007 when... no, wait, I'm wrong... er, I'm bumping the real world back one year to fit with my fanfiction so that Swine flu happened in 2008. Sure. That works. *shifty eyes* (I just liked that excuse when I put it in and was halfway through writing why I was right before realizing I was wrong. Blame school.)

(7) Four and Nine are actually bad luck numbers, because their pronunciations (Shi and Ku) are also for Death and Evil respectively, but I figured that had some magical import. In China, 8 is a lucky number (the reason why the '08 Olympics were in Beijing), because 8 (fa) in Cantonese sounds the same as "wealthy" (thanks to AngelAriel for the information on 8!)

**By the way, I have a new poll up. Please vote?**


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